


It's Lights Out and Away We Go

by StateYourCase



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fast cars slow burn, Formula One, M/M, Racing, Rey Needs A Hug, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, they're really bad at secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-24 14:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 74,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StateYourCase/pseuds/StateYourCase
Summary: When Rey finds herself thrown into the fast-paced world of F1 she doesn't expect to discover the family she's been waiting for her whole life or feel the mysterious pull towards literally the moodiest git in the F1 line up.-They sink into Turn 16 and Rey attempts an overtake, surprising herself by managing to swoop up next to him on the outside lane, nearly getting ahead for a split-second but in the next he takes it back. She grits her teeth yet can’t help feeling a stab of satisfaction.Rey digs herself deeper into her seat, determined to pass Ren’s Silencer.For once she doesn’t want to win for her team. For once she doesn’t want to win to keep her place in her new family.She just wants to beat this jerk.





	1. Melbourne, Australia

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a lot to F1 apparently.
> 
> All my knowledge literally comes from researching it for this fic and enjoying the odd race. I just couldn’t get the idea of a reylo car racing story out of my head and thought hey why not go the full monty and make it F1.
> 
> First chapter will be kind of heavy with racing processes to try and explain events for the rest of the fic so I apologise but hopefully it'll make sense!
> 
> I have a vague outline for the story, but 110% open to suggestions!
> 
> \- 
> 
> Definitions:
> 
> Grid: the layout at the start line for the race, fastest cars in qualifying are closest to the front, while the slowest are to the back.
> 
> Out lap: a lap around the circuit to literally get out of the pits and to the start line.
> 
> Hot lap: timed lap during qualifier where the drivers go as fast as they can.
> 
> Gantry: the scaffolding over the top of the start/finish line that usually has the track name on it and the starting lights.
> 
> Safety Car: physical car that determines a safe speed limit after an incident on the track so that the hazard/debris can be removed safely. Car's aren't allowed to overtake when a SC is in play and a Virtual Safety Car can be used if the hazard is easily removed (i.e. no car physically deployed, just a speed limit).

13th July 2017

 

A cool breeze drifts through the air, momentarily disrupting the sun’s strength as it beams down on the hard, barren land that defines the junkyard. Goose-pimples prickle along Rey's forearms before disappearing when the heat returns in full force. The summer's been warmer than usual; the trees adopting a burnt, wilted look as they struggle to remember what it felt like to be glossy and green, and a bead of sweat trickles down Rey's face from where she's crouched over an engine, grasping for the dud crankshaft she's sure is causing all this trouble.

 

“Hello?”

 

She freezes as a deep voice cuts through the summer air, hands stilling above the rusted, grimy engine on the outskirts of the yard.

 

“Helloo? Anyone there?”

 

American. Rey thinks, confused for a moment, craning her neck to try and get a look at the newcomer. Why is there an American in the middle of Northampton? And why on earth is he walking around in Plutt’s Junkyard likes it’s an attraction at the local fair?

 

Rey’s curiosity gets the better of her and she steps out to face the stranger, throwing a mental middle finder at the instincts urging her to stay hidden behind her piles of scrap.

 

It’s a young man, probably around her own age, a brown leather jacket thrown over one shoulder and a look of panic on his glistening, sweat-soaked face.

 

“Who are you?” Rey asks bluntly, too wary to care if she sounds rude.

 

But, if the man before her minds he certainly doesn’t show it, whipping around to face her and breaking out into a relieved grin. 

 

A kind grin, on a nice dependable face.

 

“Hi! Oh wow, you have no idea how glad I am to see you, I seriously started to think this was the end for me,” he gushes. “You’re the first person I’ve met since I left my car and that was an eon ago!”

 

Rey doesn’t smile, just narrows her eyes distrustfully despite his pleasant demeanour, after all; appearances can be deceiving.

 

“Oh sorry, I haven’t even- my name’s Finn,” the man manages, stepping closer and holding out a hand. “I was on my way to the track when my car broke down.” He gives her another winning smile. “Is there any chance you could help a damsel in distress in his hour of need?”

 

Rey’s eyes widen, excitement flooding through her.

 

“The track? Are you heading to Silverstone Circuit?” She asks animatedly, wariness forgotten.

 

“Uh well sorta,” Finn says retracting his hand, which Rey realises belatedly she forgot to shake in her excitement.

 

Way to go, Rey, brilliant job at a normal human interaction, just perfect.

 

“I’m part of the Resistance Racing team and I’m really already meant to be at a strategy meeting," he rubs his neck looking abashed, "but then the car broke down and I walked through like three massive fields and I couldn’t find anyone and it’s my first proper year on the job so I really don’t know my way around anywhere- basically I’m way outta my league right now.” Finn finally rambles himself into silence.

 

Rey just stares, wide-eyed.

 

“ _You’re_ part of Resistance Racing?” Rey asks with thinly concealed excitement.

 

“Uh,” Finn looks up at her sharply. “Ye-yeah, that’s me, yup, big-time F1 team member.”

 

“Wow," Rey replies in awe. "I’ve never met someone on an F1 team before.”

 

Finn looks awkward for a moment before he appears to break.

 

“Okay well I’m not really a 'big-time' team member," he admits guiltily, the words rushing out, "I snagged a short-term contract for the strategy crew but I’m really hoping they’ll take me on full-time next year.” He finishes, looking down at his feat.

 

Rey can’t help but burst out laughing. Finn looks up abruptly in confusion at her reaction.

 

“Trust me,” she says through her mirth, “that’s still amazing.”

 

His face breaks out into a relieved smile.

 

“Soo you’ll help me out still?” he asks hopefully.

 

Rey grins back at him. She thrusts out her hand toward him, trying to look as confident as he did earlier.

 

“Sure. I’m Rey.”

 

* * *

 

“Han’s going to kill me,” Finn groans as Rey drives Plutt’s beat-up van along the A-43.

 

“He specifically told me to bring the Falcon back in one piece.”

 

Rey had gathered this was _the_ Falcon, as in the famous pickup truck that belonged to  _Han freaking Solo_ and was currently broken down on the side of some innocuous country lane.

 

Finn puts on an overly gruff and grumpy voice.

 

“‘This baby means a whole lot more than you do, Big Shot’.”

 

Finn groans again.

 

“I’m so screwed.”

 

“He doesn’t sound very nice at all if he said that to you,” Rey says reproachfully, astounded anyone could be mean to someone as nice as Finn.

 

Finn just waves her worries off.

 

“Ah, he’s not that bad, it’s just what he’s like. Aand because the Falcon is his one true love in life, possibly more so than his _actual_ wife,” Finn quips. “Nah, if you wanna to see what truly not nice people are then look no further than First Order Racers.” A dark look descends on Finn’s face.

 

“You mean Ren?” Rey asks. “I always thought his bad guy persona was a bit of a publicity act.”

 

“Oh yeah it definitely is, it’s just he doesn’t have to _act_ very hard. He and Phasma have to be some of the worst people I have ever met. And don’t even get me started on their manager. I interned at First Order last year for a few races and it was honestly the worst time of my life.” Finn begins ticking items off his fingers vigorously. “Nothing I ever did was enough or right, they constantly abused my ideas only for stupid Hux to steal them as his own and then they ‘let me go’ right before the last race of the Championships saying I wouldn’t have a job next year and shouldn’t expect a reference after the poor work I showed!” Finn finishes with an angry flourish.

 

Rey bristles on his behalf, inexplicably glad to have someone to be be angry on behalf of.

 

“That’s not fair at all! They can’t just treat you like that,” Rey protests heatedly.

 

Finn appears to soften back into his usual good humour at her anger for him.

 

“Hey _I’m_ not about to disagree with you,” he said raising his hands in mock defence at her fury. “But what’s done is done and now I’m with a really good team that actually supports each other so I can’t complain, and if nothing _else_ goes wrong this year hopefully I’ll have a permanent place there.”

 

“Well if you don’t just let me know and I’ll give them a piece of my mind,” Rey says forcefully, only half joking.

 

Finn bursts into laughter at that.

 

“Oh man, I’d pay good money to see that!” He guffaws.

 

Rey can’t help but let a smile break onto her face, absently noting she had smiled more today than any she could remember.

 

“I still can’t believe that you’re _in_ a motor sport team and you couldn’t even fix your own car,” Rey teases.

 

“I know, I know, irony’s a bitch,” Finn sighs good-naturedly.

 

Rey’s not sure exactly what prompts her to say it but there’s just a feeling within her that tells her it’s the right thing to do. A sense almost.

 

“Hey, if you want I can take a look at the Falcon and see if I can get it going,” Rey offers quickly, trying to sound casual.

 

Finn’s head spins towards her in the driver’s seat so quickly she worries he’ll have a crick in it for days.

 

He’s silent for a moment.

 

Oh no, why would you say that? Of course he doesn’t want you to look at it. He probably thinks you’d be more likely to steal it than fix it.

 

“You’d really do that for me?” Finn asks interrupting Rey’s self-denigration and letting a tiny pinprick of hope sprout in her chest.

 

“Oh, yeah of course, no problem.”

 

“Wow, Rey you really don’t have to, I mean it’s okay I know I go on a bit but Han won’t be that angry at me,” Finn says softly.

 

“No, Finn I want to. Really. You’ve been so lovely to me and you deserve to have people be nice to you too,” Rey replies quietly.

 

“You’re the one who’s saved my skin,” Finn mumbles. “Twice with this offer.”

 

They fall into an awkward silence neither quite sure how to take the other’s kindness.

 

“So are you a mechanic then?” Finn questions eventually.

 

“No,” Rey admits. “But I know my way around a car, I’ve built all my own karts from when I was little,” she continues, allowing the pride she feels to fill her voice slightly.

 

“Karts?” Finn says thoughtfully. “You’re into F1 then?”

 

“Oh I love it!” Rey gushes. “It’s always been a big thing around the area because of the circuit and I used to dream of driving in a Grand Prix!”

 

She definitely doesn’t mention that she still dreams of it, because that train of thought is completely and utterly, 100% useless and will lead her down a road she does not want to travel again.

 

“So you’re a driver?!”

 

Just as suddenly as Rey’s good mood comes it leaves again, replaced with harsh reality.

 

“I wish,” she says trying to sound pragmatic rather than bitter. “I’d never be able to afford the training or any of the entry fees for the tests. It’s fine though, I’ll just have to settle with wiping the floor with the guys in the village.” She finishes, giving him what she hopes is a reassuring grin.

 

It is fine. Really.

 

Finn’s silent again, apparently picking up on her mood and it isn’t much longer until she’s turning into the car park for Silverstone Circuit. Finn thanks her profusely handing over the keys to this Han’s ‘one true love’, telling her where abouts he left it. He spends another good few minutes babbling his ‘thank yous’ until he finally heeds her advice to get inside and do his bloody job.

 

Rey smiles fondly as he waves while he walks towards the entrance, ridiculously grateful that her offer to drive  _the Falcon_ over later means she might be able to see him one last time.

 

* * *

 

24th March 2018

 

Rey takes a deep breath, looking about her hotel room for the sixth time that morning feeling as though she was forgetting something extremely important.

 

Everything looked so clean and pristine that, despite her shower that morning and her new white, orange and red Resistance shirt, Rey felt like she was dirtying the place with her presence.

 

Get used to it Rey, she thinks to herself, this is the life of a Formula One driver apparently; fancy hotels and crippling fear.

 

The stainless steel clock on the wall ticks away at the silence as the nerves eat away at her stomach.

 

What if no one comes for her? What if she sits here waiting for hours until the hotel staff tell her to get out and that she owes an exorbitant amount of money for the room? How will she pay for it? She hasn’t won any races yet. She’s in a foreign country completely dependent on other people and what if they leav-

 

No. Stop it, Rey thinks firmly. Finn will come. He said he would, so he will.

 

Rey swallows away the momentary fear, leaving only disgust at her own thoughts.

 

How could she think that Finn would leave her like that? He was her closest friend and there was no one more trustworthy than him, Han had even made him her race strategist because of how well they together. Rey smoothens non-existent wrinkles from her shirt, the flaming Resistance Racing logo sewn onto the arms.

 

Sometimes Rey hates how her childhood could still taint the life she had made for herself. How difficult it could be to trust people, even those she had come to see as family. But if anyone deserved her trust after her shitty childhood it was Finn. And Poe and Rose and Paige and Han and Chewie and Leia. They had welcomed her and taken care of her in an industry that could have destroyed the last bits of hope she had left for life. Instead they nurtured and allowed her to blossom in the new environment. From the moment she had met Finn by chance at Plutt’s junkyard mid-last year they had shown her nothing but kindness.

 

Something she was still getting used to.

 

Rey smiles fondly, remembering how he had hugged her, shocking her with his physical affection when she had handed over the Falcon’s keys to him that afternoon they had first met, telling him it had been a simple jump start to get her moving again. Then Han had come out, curious about the girl who had offered to fix his baby and Finn had talked her up like there was no tomorrow. When he suggested she try out for a spot on the team with Wedge retiring at the end of that year she almost combusted with shock.

 

Han had seemed unfazed and unbothered but certainly not against the idea and the next thing she knew she was getting a cursory education in how a real F1 race car worked from Poe bloody Dameron himself, 2016 _Champion_ , for Pete’s sake.

 

By the end of that week she had been invited for an official test, fees waived for her work on the Falcon, despite her horrified insistence that it would in no way cover the test costs to an indifferent Han, and offered a place on the 2018 team, with a one-year contract based on her impressive results.

 

Rey thought a large part of her success was her familiarisation with the Siverstone circuit but she wasn’t about to tell them that. Not when they were offering her the out she had been craving ever since her parents left her at an orphanage in Brackley at the age of 5.

 

Unfortunately that didn’t stop the guilt from settling in anyway, and the fear of being found out as the fake she was.

 

Finally, a rap on the door pulls her out of her memories.

 

Now she just has to prove that she’s learnt enough to keep around.

 

She jumps up to the door and pulls it open to reveal Finn in his own Resistance colours looking excited.

 

“Ready to go, Peanut?” He asks with a big grin.

 

Rey smiles back, her nerves and second-guessing immediately settling down to a gentle simmer at the back of her mind.

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies taking a deep breath before stepping through the door.

 

* * *

 

The race track is a bustle of activity in the preparation for the Qualifiers, the midday Australian sun beating down on them relentlessly as it heats the asphalt and steams the air on the track, releasing the comforting scent of dirt and burning fuel.

 

Rey breathes it in, relishing the smell as she strides over to her orange and white Resistance X-Wing model race car, white neck support attached to her orange jumpsuit and swinging her white helmet covered in sponsor stickers by her side as she approaches Rose and Paige overlooking her car.

 

Qualifiers were finally here for the first Grand Prix of the year and Rey’s excitement was uncontainable.

 

The three free practice sessions had been completed, two yesterday and one more that very Saturday morning, despite her earlier doubts the practice session had been reassuring and Rey had secured some comforting times during the allotted hour although First Order Racing had certainly dominated the sessions.

 

She felt more ready than ever to show the world what she had. Being one of the few newcomers to the Championships this year Rey wanted to prove that she was worthy to be here.

 

Maybe to herself more than anything.

 

“Ready to go?” Rose chirps, only feeding Rey’s buzz.

 

The Tico sisters are part of the large team of mechanics for Resistance Racing, under the head mechanic Chewie, although Paige was more a liaison to her engineering department. More than that they had become close friends that she turned to for support when she just needed some sympathetic ears to listen, not to mention the new thrill of girl’s nights was also a welcome advent that Rey didn’t think she could go without again.

 

“Definitely,” Rey grins back, slipping on her helmet and jumping into her orange X-Wing racer, the white number 19 emblazoned onto the narrow front body.

 

She squeezes down into the narrow cockpit stretching her legs down the body of the small vehicle and settling into the low seat. It was always a bit of an awkward feeling at first as the layout forced her to lean back in a slightly vulnerable position and demanding extra work from her core muscles, however Rey found reminding herself to trust in her car helps relax and centre her mind and body.

 

Rey belts in and gives the girls a thumbs up as they secure a foam headrest around her and then step away, final checks complete.

 

Rey waits impatiently, energy coursing through her toes and fingertips, for Han to give her the signal to pull out of the pits and complete her out lap before passing the start/finish line, which would begin her timed hot lap for the First Qualifier.

 

Q1: 18 minutes for the twenty competing F1 cars to provide a competitive time that would determine who made it through to Q2. The slowest five cars would be eliminated and start in the furthest five positions back on the starting grid for the Grand Prix tomorrow.

 

The less experienced teams often headed out to the track first, the more experienced typically waiting longer, being more confident in how quickly they can complete a hot lap so that they'll use less fuel and the others have less time to beat their impressive times.

 

Han will be sending Rey out after five minutes, enough time to allow the slower drivers time to set some initial lap times but leaving plenty of leeway so that she isn’t pressured and forced into making silly mistakes.

 

Mistakes that could cost her her car, or worse.

 

“Alright, kid,” Rey hears in her helmet finally, matching Han’s mouth at the front of the garage opening as he waves her forward. “Give ‘em hell.”

 

Rey pushes down lightly on the accelerator and the car responds instantly, zipping from the garage and down the pit lanes towards the track.

 

She speeds around the corners, completing her out lap and has enough time to appreciate the light glinting off the lake the track surrounds at the Melbourne circuit, the city skyline shimmering in the distance.

 

She pulls out of turn 16 and onto the straight approaching the starting gantry which will begin her timed hot lap.

 

Rey takes a deep breath.

 

This was it.

 

She guns her engine as she passes under the gantry and speeds up to turn one with determination.

 

* * *

 

Rey makes it through to Q3 by the skin of her teeth.

 

She sets a good time in Q1, easily passing through to Q2 with the 14 other qualifiers, including her team mate, but places the 10th quickest in the second qualifier’s 15-minute time allowance and therefore only just making the cut for Q3 with the other nine racers.

 

Now on her fourth hot lap for Q3 time is rapidly running out, 12 minutes has quickly shredded down to a remaining 2 minutes to set a better time.

 

Rey navigates turn 11, shifting down her gears to take the slight left turn and pushing the accelerator moving up a gear only to brake and bring it back down as turn 12 is upon her.

She presses the right paddle to downshift her gears again.

 

_Bwaaammmm bwaaammm._

 

She hits a relative straight and she shucks down on the accelerator again.

 

_Waaa! Waaa! Waaaa!_

 

The car screams as she continues shifting up gears.

 

Turn 13 approaches. This one is a sharp right and has been giving her issues all day, slowing her time up.

 

But this time Rey is determined.

 

She brakes hard keeping close to the inside of the lane, hearing the deep whirl of the engine as she slows and waits a millisecond to feel the track has connected with all four of her wheels before she applies the accelerator hard. She pulls off the turn racing down the short straight as fast as she dares before slowing down to get around turn 14.

 

Increasing speed momentarily she shifts up a gear only to immediately slam on the brakes and shift down again when the sharp turn 15 looms.

 

Rey whips her X-wing around it as best she can zooming into the slightly less tight right-hand turn of 16.

 

From there she lets loose, trying to shave as much off her time as is possible in the final few seconds on the last straight of the track.

 

Rey flies past the finish line, reluctantly applying her brakes and shifting down in gears until she rounds the track again to reach the pit lane entry and into the Resistance garage.

 

Lifting off the foam headrest she jumps out of her car, pulling off her helmet ungracefully to see the results.

 

Her time is flashing on one of the screen in the pits alongside the other 10 drivers’.

 

1:22:956

 

Poe sets the fastest time, with 1:21:542, securing pole position for Resistance Racing.

 

The American racer and last year’s Champion, Kylo Ren places second in the qualifiers followed by Mexican, Cassian Andor from Rogue Auto.

 

Rey comes in 6th fastest and is elated.

 

Sure its not pole position but it’s her first ever qualifier and based on Finn’s calculations she hadn’t been expecting higher than 8th.

 

Neither had anyone else in the league.

 

Finn and Rose tackle her as soon as she is standing straight.

 

“Way to go, Rey!” Rose squeals, giving her a huge hug.

 

“You beat Phasma! That was incredible, Peanut!”

 

“If people weren’t worried about you before they will be now,” Poe remarks, pulling her into a hug once the other two relinquish their grip.

 

“Speak for yourself, Poe! Pole position for the first Grand Prix!” Rey says with adrenalin filled excitement.

 

Poe smirks, looking smug without it being irritating in the way only Poe Dameron can.

 

“Good work, kid,” is all Han grunts at her. “You braked too early on turn 6 in your last lap though.”

 

“Oh come on Han she did brilliantly,” Paige chides. “Let her have a few minutes before you start criticising everything.”

 

“My damn garage and I can do whatever the hell I want,” Rey hears Han mumble as he stomps off with Poe for the racer to complete his Post-Qualifying interview on the track.

 

* * *

 

Rey walks through the paddock looking for the Falcon that will return her to her hotel for the night. She’s grateful they don’t have a sponsor event tonight, Han waived it this weekend as he knew she’d be overwhelmed enough by the first few days, but she was well aware that she wouldn’t have this luxury for long. Driver appearances at sponsor events were nearly mandatory and Rey dreaded having to attend and socialise.

 

Being surrounded by a crush of people people she didn’t know or trust wasn’t her idea of fun in any normal situation.

 

But, that was the business. And it seemed a relatively small price to pay in order to be able to do something she actually loved. Her life had certainly turned upside down in a matter of months, all for the better, and Rey wasn’t about to waste it worrying and feeling ungrateful simply due to some social functions.

 

Rey looks about for the Falcon, not spotting it in it’s usual place. Her attention is suddenly diverted when she glimpses the sleek black body of an F1 race car in one of the garages that leads out to the pits.

 

Almost without permission her feet direct her towards it, feeling that familiar tingle of instinct that tells her checking this beautiful beast out is definitely the correct form of action.

 

No one’s around when she approaches it. It’s a TIE F1 the Silencer model if she judges the altered front wings correctly. It’s a work of art.

 

Rey can’t help running her hand along the outside of the cockpit, admiring the artistry in the glossy design. The black coating has minimal sponsor stickers covering it, although the ones that are there are all coloured red, leaving a proud dignified beast with a single red strip along each side of the race car, blood red wings detailed into the shape of flames and a large white number one on the front. Rey cranes her neck to see into the cockpit, noting the design features continue there, even the seat at the bottom has an unnecessary red outline and the exposed metal is all coated in black paint.

 

That must take a lot of effort to maintain its appearance, Rey thinks derisively, considering the amount of repairs necessary on F1 vehicles.

 

Rey is just reaching out her hand to feel the leather steering wheel, which looks incredibly taunt and tough, when a deep voice jolts her out of her trance.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

Rey’s head snaps around to the source, defensively jumping away from the fury.

 

Kylo Ren stands on the other side of the garage staring at her with open contempt.

 

She’s seen him around. Looking moody in driver meetings and early practice sessions during the winter but he’d never so much as glared her way, let alone spoken to her, and to be honest she’d been fine with that, considering his reputation.

 

Despite everything Finn and Poe have told her about the First Order and its drivers with some major attitude problems, Rey smiles brightly hoping to head off any anger.

 

“Hi,” she says cheerfully instead. “You’re Kylo Ren, right?”

 

Even though she knows damn well who the four-time Champion is.

 

“I’m Rey. Sorry I just couldn’t resist having a look, this is the Silencer model right? With the new light-weight wings and lowered rear axel?”

 

She’s never been comfortable with angry men, usually it means some kind of punishment whether its in the form of physical or the withholding of food for her indiscretions… or even just words, which always somehow manage to hurt long after bruises fade and the hunger pangs disappear.

 

Ren stalks towards her, coming to a halt at the side of the vehicle so that it no longer sits between them. His head is free of his gear, rather the freshly scratched black helmet is gripped in the black gloves he wears, so that dark hair spills down his head, curling to an end at the top of his black jumpsuit.

 

Seems to be a pattern here, Rey thinks trying hard not to roll her eyes at the dramatics of it all.

 

God, even his eyes look black, she observes as they rake brutally down her body, taking in her orange Resistance jumpsuit and multitude of sponsor stickers on display on her helmet.

 

“Did they send you to sabotage my car?” Ren asks with venom in his soft voice, eyes narrowed in disgust.

 

“What?” Rey replies, gobsmacked.

 

“You heard me.” Ren takes a step closer predatorily, cruel eyes locked onto hers in open anger. “Has Resistance finally sunk so low as to need to sabotage First Order to win a race.”

 

Rey feels her own anger suddenly bubble up.

 

How _dare_ he.

 

“Poe didn’t seem to need any help in beating you in qualifiers today,” she retorts furiously.

 

Ren’s eyes flash and he steps closer again, crowding her space.

 

“Maybe you’re a bit too fresh to this, _scavenger_ ,” Rey recoils in shock. “But I happen to have beat him well enough last year. This year won’t be any different, except I’ll crush a cheater like you in the process too.”

 

Rey can barely believe her own ears. She’d met her share of nasty people in the past, but this guy was taking the whole cake and devouring it.

 

And just like the others, this jerk was not going to break her.

 

“Where the hell do you get off talking to people like that!?” Rey yells full in his face. “I didn’t do anything to your ridiculous car and just because _you’re_ clearly an arsehole doesn’t mean everyone else in the world is. So why don’t you just go fuck yourself.”

 

He seems momentarily shocked by her outburst but the next second his features are turning into an angry snarl again and he seems to be gearing up to shout a retort at her. Before he gets the chance however, Rey takes the opportunity to whirl around on her heel and march away.

 

She exits the First Order garage and spots the Falcon idling at the gate of the paddock. Hurrying towards it she tries to shake off the feeling of being watched and dispel the image of a pair of dark angry eyes that fill her mind.

 

* * *

 

Sunday 25th March – Melbourne Grand Prix

 

Rey follows Poe out onto the track where surely hundreds of people are milling around the grid, race cars being wheeled out and into position as reporters dart about the track, snatching random drivers or managers or past racers for snippets of interviews while the set up continues.

 

Rey’s mostly left alone as an unknown newcomer, only getting caught up once and quickly saying she’s excited for her first Grand Prix to satisfy her questioner, while Poe is positively fending off journalists at every step, with his usual devastating charm of course. Photographers snap away with their cameras and the F1 teams scurry about ensuring the cars are finally ready to go.

 

The drivers are directed to line up for the obligatory photo, national flags held by race officials behind them, and Rey finds herself sandwiched between Poe and Sideon Ithano from Kanata Motors. Anticipation is surging through every nerve and muscle in her body and it’s not difficult to smile as she stands with her team mate and competitors on the brink of her career.

 

The cameras continue clicking as the drivers are dismissed to go to their cars and Rey, overwhelmed to say the least, just follows Poe’s lead as they stride up the grid towards their cars.

 

Poe stops at his number 8 X-Wing and gives Rey a final bright grin as she goes to pass him.

 

“You’ll do great, champ,” he says with a wink.

 

Rey simply grins back, too excited for words, and heads to her X-Wing, shakily pulling her white balaclava on and securing her helmet.

 

She steps into her cockpit and Paige completes the final checks as she’s fastened in, foam headrest inserted and steering wheel affixed. Paige gives her a comforting smile and a thumbs up as the remaining Resistance mechanics and officials step away, finally leaving only Rey and the car.

 

She can see Poe in pole position to the left up ahead, she smiles proudly, immensely glad that she and her teammate have such a great relationship that isn’t hampered by this competitive sport.

 

Her smile fades however when she looks straight ahead. Kylo Ren is in second place on the grid to the right, staggered slightly back from Poe’s position and, although she can’t see him from her low vantage point behind Boba Fett in fourth position, she knows he’s there.

 

Somehow it’s just as bad.

 

The double row of red lights appears on the starting light gantry and the drivers slowly move forward together in an ordered procession around the track for the formation lap.

 

Rey leisurely accelerates, the lights on her steering wheel appearing as she gathers speed. One green light, two green lights, three green lights, red light. Rey changes gear with a press of a lever on the right side of the steering wheel once the red light appears, indicating that she should shift up gears and the number on the screen changes accordingly, letting her know her gear.

 

She looks out of her helmet visor, half seeing the track and half imagining it in her mind’s eye as she takes a slow breath in, following Chirrut Imwe, in fifth place, from Force One.

 

She had fumed about their interaction all night, not being able to shake the vision of his disgust as he took in her appearance.

 

Sure she’d never been anything that special to look at, as the clear disinterest from the boys in the village made obvious, but she wasn’t that bad. Besides how she looked didn’t even matter. It was her skills behind a car they should people should look out for, _not_ her appearance.

 

Perhaps it was how he clearly had the best of everything that pissed Rey off the most. The best quality jumpsuit, the most prestigious helmet brand, the richest sponsors, every piece of equipment matching in perfectly and screaming his superiority. A fact absolutely reflected in his eyes.

 

Rey shakes herself mentally, solidly refocusing her mind on the race ahead and the circuit to be tackled and her excitement returns in full force, replacing any lingering feelings of prickliness.

 

After what feels like an eternity the procession rounds the final corner, approaching the start/finish line.

 

Her comm-link buzzes to life.

 

“Okay kid,” came Han’s gruff voice. “You’re at grid 6, Poe’s already in position. Feeling ready?”

 

Rey pressed down on her comm-link button.

 

“Sure am.”

 

“Good, you should be. Show ‘em the rookie ain’t to be underestimated.”

 

“Will do,” Rey replied with a determined grin behind her helmet.

 

“Don’t forget Turn 6 and 9 are yours. Use ‘em wisely.”

 

“Got it, thanks Han,” Rey replies.

 

“Good,” comes Han’s voice again sounding even gruffer than before through the comm-link. “Stay safe, kid, we’ll see you back in the pits after.”

 

Rey just smiles, a fond feeling bubbling through her chest.

 

Approaching her place in the grid, Rey slows to a halt and waits, engine still rumbling as she shuts her eyes and centres herself. She imagines the racetrack before her, just as detailed and concrete as any map she could see in real life.

 

The Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit was a relatively simple track although it was difficult to overtake on, making Rey’s job a tough one. It had a smooth surface for a public road and encircled a lake. Not that she would have much time to enjoy the view with the barricades and her focus fully immersed in the race. She goes through the turns and gear changes in her head quickly finding comfort in the now familiar steps.

 

A buzzer sounds, alerting the drivers to the 30 second time remaining until the race begins.

 

Rey opens her eyes.

 

Finally, she thinks, anticipation buzzing under her skin as it nears the time for her first Grand Prix.

 

She waits breathing slowly as her mind becomes tingles with attentiveness, taking in every tiny detail surrounding her but only processing important facts.

 

Rey revs her engine, joining the other racers in their showboating, building into a cacophony noise. Rey never stopped marvelling at how the sound could _feel_ like rushing gusts of wind made sonic.

 

A single red light appears on the far right of the start-lights, indicating five seconds until the start of the race.

 

Two lights, four seconds.

 

Three lights, three seconds. Rey tightens her grip on the steering wheel.

 

Four lights, two seconds. Rey takes a deep breath and holds it.

 

Five lights, one second.

 

The row of red lights disappear and Rey presses down on the accelerator pushing forward and swerving to the left to get into a better strategic placement, already edging up on Fett’s blue and grey race car.

 

It’s a good start. Smooth and steady and it lifts Rey’s confidence, thrusting her forward.

 

The drivers swerve and press, muddling their order and navigating the mess with practiced hands until they quickly fall into a semblance of order. Rey finds herself in a pack of cars, still in 6th position now behind Phasma and Fett, respectively, wrestling for 4th.

 

She can see Poe battling it out on every corner with Ren, Cassian Andor holding back a bit, as the other two each take the lead until the other has an advantage and takes it back but she remains focused on her task: getting to fourth place to be able to challenge the front runners.

 

Rey maintains her position for the first 6 Laps, keeping pace with the other drivers and defending her position well.

 

As she approaches the ninth corner on the 7th Lap, a tight right turn, Rey brakes slightly feeling the G-forces press down on her and is idly grateful for the focus on neck muscle strengthening that keeps her neck from breaking, changing down gears as she allows herself to go wide, coming half way up Fett’s car as she begins to come out of the turn before gunning the engine as soon as she can, keeping space between them but not too much as to lose ground.

 

It’s a tricky move, if Fett moves into her space she risks damaging a front wing or worse, which could cause major problems in the 51 Laps still to come but Rey has confidence in her speed and skill in the moment and the move puts her in the inside lane for turn ten, allowing her to pull ahead of Fett and into the front, securing her position for the curved stretch of road ahead, keeping perilously close to Phasma’s First Order racer.

 

Rey maintains her position for the rest of the lap, defending it well from Fett’s attempt to retake 5th while not letting up on Phasma’s heels, waiting patiently for an opportunity to overtake.

 

It comes 11 Laps later.

 

Rey keeps close to Phasma making sure her pressure never lets up on the First Order driver and her patience is rewarded on Turn 9 again. Phasma’s Silencer brakes as she enters the tight turn but a plume of grey–white smoke emits from the back tyres as her vehicle locks up and it sends her wide on the corner, half onto the astro-turf.

 

Rey keeps her composure, even as Phasma appears to try to get back onto the track and nearly barrels into Rey’s X-Wing but she slips past and free of the dark racer.

 

“Doing good, doing good,” she hears Finn’s forced calm voice come over the radio, as her main strategist. “You’re 7 seconds behind Andor so focus on closing the distance so you and Poe can work together.”

 

Ever so slowly, inch by inch, Rey manages to do that, she’s helped by not having anyone in immediately in front of her unlike the three front-runners and she fully sticks every corner to gain as much as she can over the next four laps, careful to cut every possible second off each move she makes to compete with the leaders.

 

She sees Andor strip off the track for the pit lane and she pushes harder, determined to get ahead before he can rejoin the race. She rounds the corner where the pit lane exit is and sees Andor out of the corner of her eye, foot flat on the ground she shoves forward and he is forced to make way for her as he re-enters the circuit.

 

“Brilliant work, Rey!” She can’t even tell who is speaking to her, blood pumping loudly in her ears.

 

“Ren’s already pitted so we’ll have Poe pit soon. We need you to put pressure on Ren so he has to slow to defend against you. Got it?”

 

“Got it,” Rey grits back.

 

On Lap 24 she sees Poe peel off for the pits just before the final turn, leaving Ren in the lead with Rey now closely following.

 

They sink into Turn 16 and Rey tries an overtake, surprising herself by managing to swoop up next to him on the outside lane and nearly gets ahead for a split-second but in the next he takes it back. She grits her teeth but can’t help feeling a stab of satisfaction in proving that she doesn’t need to cheat to threaten him.

 

Rey gets in Ren’s space, following tight behind before jerking to the left on the straight but then sliding back towards the right as she sees Ren move to the left minutely. She doesn’t even get past his back wheels as she’s cut off and despite this being the plan, irritation fires up within her at him, making her more dogged in keeping the intensity on him.

 

No longer than 15 seconds after Poe disappears the comm-link crackles to life.

 

Finn’ voice fills her helmet letting her know that Poe is now in 4th place. It’s a good position, especially considering his tyres will be fresher than Ren’s or Andor’s for the rest of the race. It showed how good Chewie, Paige and Rose are, and the strategists.

 

Rey digs herself deeper into her seat, determined to get ahead of Ren’s Silencer.

 

For once she doesn’t want to win for her team. For once she doesn’t want to win to keep her place in her new family.

 

She just wants to beat this jerk.

 

* * *

 

 

The comm-link buzzes to life.

 

“Final lap, kid,” comes Han’s tense gruff voice as Rey passes the start/finish line to start Lap 58.

 

Rey doesn’t reply, she can’t spare even the slightest concentration from this race.

 

She can see Poe’s X-Wing ahead, he’s secured a big enough gap that his win is almost certain, providing he doesn’t make any mistakes or crash.

 

The Virtual Safety Car was deployed after a Yellow flag was waved on Lap 27, indicating a hazard on the track and that the drivers should decrease to the accepted speed while maintaining formation. Rey had immediately taken the opportunity to make her compulsory pit stop to change tyres, going from ultrasofts to supersofts for the dry track. It had been a brilliant move as the safety car slowed the rest of the competitors up meaning Rey could get back into the race right behind Poe, not losing any position to another driver.

 

Once the green light appeared, signalling that the broken down Sith racer had been cleared from the track she had the excellent vantage point to watch Poe make a satisfying wide overtake of Ren’s Silencer on Turn 3.

 

Now on the final lap, she’s ended up in 4th stuck behind a belligerent Kylo Ren and Cassian Andor, who had completed a well calculated overtake of Rey in Lap 39. The three of them battling for second place with the knowledge at least one of them will not end up on the podium.

 

It won’t be me though, Rey thinks viciously, digging deeper in her reserve energy for the focus necessary to get past the two more experienced drivers.

 

She passes Turn 1 and 2, nearly getting squeezed out by Andor and Ren but she refuses to let them scare her out of the tussle.

 

Accelerate, green, green, green, red, change gear.

 

_Waaa! Waaa! Waaaa!_

 

Andor moves to the side of Ren’s vehicle as they continue down the track so she keeps close behind the Silencer, crowding his space but keeping her reflexes sharp for when he brakes to avoid going into the back of his racer.

 

Just looking at it brings back some of her fury from their meeting and she finds herself pushing her herself and her reflexes harder by not backing off until the final possible millisecond.

 

Turn 13 approaches and she sees Ren brake. Andor takes the outside lane in an attempt to overtake Ren and it looks like its about to work, until Ren shifts, nearly pushing into Andor’s car to ensure the nose of his Silencer is ahead coming out of the turn. Rey see’s part of the Rogue racer’s front wing fly off, as though it’s a piece of paper in a hurricane.

 

But Ren’s move opens up the inside lane.

 

Minutely. But it’s there.

 

Rey lunges at the opportunity, digging into the corner and braking hard at the last second.

 

For a moment she’s worried the back of her car might oversteer and send her into a spin but the wheels keep their grip on the track as she slows down just enough on the corner. Rey doesn’t even wait for the car to feel steady, there’s no time. She accelerates hard, throwing caution to the wind as she pushes through the gap and barrels ahead of the other two jostling racers.

 

“Good girl!” Rey growls distractedly at her car.

 

Ren may have managed to head off Andor’s overtake attempt but her move had surprised him it seems and he jerks back to the inside lane too late and making another miscalculation as Andor pushes forward just ahead of him.

 

Rey spares a glance at her rearview mirrors after she rounds Turn 14, and sees the two racers brush violently as they take the turn, slowing their advance enough for Rey to gain another half a second in her lead.

 

Both keep control somehow and Rey refocuses on the last two turns ahead.

 

She feels a presence begin to loom again as she rounds the sharp left that is Turn 15.

 

Andor. Right behind her.

 

She barrels into the less intense curve of Turn 16 and presses flat down on the accelerator, knowing Andor will be doing the same as they reach the final straight that will take them past the finish line.

 

Rey ducks her head just before the gantry, willing for any extra aerodynamic factor she can create that will keep her ahead, Andor still gaining on her but Rey’s sure he’s too late and-

 

Yes!

 

Rey zooms under the the gantry, finishing the race in second place.

 

She can see Poe ahead completing another lap to get back to the pits and she finds herself grinning manically, every muscle in her body screaming as she finally untenses for the first time in 58 laps but she can barely feel it, her adrenalin throttling through her vigorously.

 

She can’t hear them but she can see the crowd screaming and clapping and Rey wriggles an arm out of the tight cockpit to pump her fist in celebration.

 

* * *

Everything is a blur after she reaches the Champion’s pits with Poe, he grabs her pulling her out of her cockpit and into a huge hug.

 

“Way to go, Rey! You smashed it!” He yells ecstatically at her.

 

Rey can barely shout back at him, let alone remove her helmet before Poe’s dragging her towards their team waiting behind the barricade with their own ecstatic excitement causing them to jump and yell their congratulations at the two drivers. Apart from Han, of course who just stands there smirking smugly as they rush over and are pulled in to a massive group hug, hands clapping down on her back and helmet in the clamour.

 

The crowd has been released onto the track, held back by the plexi-glass from the pit area as they swarm and yell trying to get a better look, phones out and flags waving about as their fervour emanates into the air intoxicatingly.

 

Andor approaches them and shakes their hands in a generous show of sportsmanship and Rey takes the opportunity to pull off her helmet, tugging off the fire retardant balaclava underneath.

 

She’s congratulating him on his brilliant control on Turn 14 when she hears a violent crashing.

 

Rey whips her head around in time to see Ren further down the pit lane in front of the First Order garage, surrounded by overturned energy drinks that had been neatly stacked high, Rey assumes by a hard working intern from the drinks company, that Ren appears to have knocked down in a fit of anger. He rips off his helmet as people within the danger zone scramble away and cameras flash excitedly, keen to get a picture of the famous Kylo Ren temper in action.

 

He doesn’t disappoint, flinging his helmet into a garage wall with enough force to dent it before roaring the name ‘Hux’ and stomping out of sight in a murderous rage to find the unfortunate First Order employee.

 

A short laugh of disbelief huffs from Rey at his childish display as normality resumes and she feels Chewie pick her up from behind, shaking her in celebration.

 

* * *

 

The icy cold bubbles of champagne spray Rey full in the face, trickling delightfully down the back of her sweaty neck as she gleefully angles away from it. She grins wickedly, shaking her own bottle of champagne before letting it loose all over Poe in retaliation, before taking aim at her team standing in the crowd below the podium. Rey laughs freely as Finn and Rose embrace the spray, licking at it and jumping around while Han just gives her a pointed ‘don’t try that again, kid’ look.

 

She’s a Grand Prix podium finisher.

 

She’s secured herself 18 points.

 

Resistance Racing claimed the top two positions.

 

And Kylo Ren didn’t even place.

 

Nothing could bring down her mood.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:          25

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:               18

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:                  15

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:                 12

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:         10

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                           8

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                       6

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                       4

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                                 2

Baze Malbus - Force One:                        1

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:              0

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                          0

Mace Windu - Jedi:                                  0

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:          0

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:              0

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                            0

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                          0

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:               0

Garth Maul - Sith:                                   0

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                             0


	2. Sakhir, Bahrain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kind response guys! I'm super pumped to get more of this story up and I hope you enjoy!

“Welcome back for the Second Grand Prix of 2018 where we are heading to Bahrain for the next race of the Championships!"

 

“We sure are, Biggs, now before we can look into the track and conditions for today, we have to talk about Melbourne.”

 

“Sure do, Bren, what a race, what a race. Just what you want in the sport isn’t it?”

 

“Definitely, lots of overtakes and that final lap decider was just heart pounding, and of course, we had a surprise podium, didn’t we? Everyone though First Order would dominate this year but that clearly is _not_ the case if Melbourne is anything to go by.”

 

“No, and what a shock it was to see the 2017 Champion not even place on the podium!”

 

“Certainly, I mean Ren is 29, statistically speaking, he should be coming into the best performances of his career but that result _must_ have been incredibly disappointing for the team and we all know Snoke’s high standards.”

 

“Yeah it’s gotta sting, it is rather a surprise but I guess that’s what happens when you drive on emotion alone like Ren often does.”

 

“He certainly has had some stunning victories but when things go wrong they go wrong bad.”

 

“Yeah it’s that lack of control, it really can bite you in the – in the- well it can badly impact your results to say the least.”

 

“Haha yes it definitely can, Biggs, nice save.”

 

“And we have to talk about Rey Smith of course, what an incredible performance, just out of nowhere and a second place podium finisher beating out the likes of champions like Ren and Andor!”

 

“Yeah, just really smart driving and of course that half-time pit stop definitely helped. There’s certainly room for improvements; we saw how she really held back when there was an opening on lap 32 and she was outmanoeuvred a few times but those are minor after what we saw from her in Australia and I think a lot of that will be sorted with more experience.”

 

“Hm certainly one to watch, and if she can keep up these impressive performances, look I’m gonna say it, I think we might be seeing a future champion over her career.”

 

“Ooh big call, but I can’t help but agree with you there, Biggs.”

 

“And those X-Wing are just superb aren’t they?”

 

“Oh certainly! We had been thinking the Silencers from First Order would be the real threats this year, and I think they still can be but they aren’t going to dominate like we were given reason to believe during the winter.”

 

“No not at all. Even the Rogue cars are showing their teeth, they’ve had a lot of work done on them since last year’s fairly disappointing performances. So definite congratulations to the engineers there as well as the Rogue team.”

 

“Now getting on to Kanata Motors, it’s a disappointing start, obviously we have the Irish Quiggold as a relative new comer but Ithano has _another_ non-finish, continuing his rotten Australian luck, and it _is_ noticeable that he hasn’t finished in the top 10 for the past 19 races, including Melbourne.”

 

“Yes, he is getting on and it might just be time to start asking those unfortunate questions about when he might retire so Kanata can get some fresh blood on the team.”

 

“Knowing her I’m sure she’s chomping at the bit for it to happen!”

 

“And while we are talking about disappointing performances let’s just have a look at the Sith team. _Both_ cars out of the race within minutes of each other, apparently with the same issue.”

 

“Yeah, seemed like both of them had wheel failures.”

 

“Mm, it’s started some questions about the quality of their vehicles, certainly.”

 

“Definitely, so as it stands in the points tally we have Dameron in 1st place with 25 points, Smith with 18, Andor on 15, Ren with 12, Phasma on 10, and Fett, Rook, Imwe, Tano and Malbus filling out the last of the point scorers. Maul and Dooku from Sith and Ithano from Kanata were all non-finishers in Melbourne.”

 

“Mm, I’m definitely excited to see how the drivers will perform in Bahrain.”

 

“As am I, Biggs!”

 

* * *

 

 Sunday 8th April - Bahrain Grand Prix

 

Kylo strides into the First Order garage feeling the heavy Bahraini heat become oppressive as he leaves the open space of the paddock. Mechanics rush around the enclosed space but as he approaches they step out of his way before scurrying back to their preoccupations when there’s enough distance between them.

 

He gives his Silencer a cursory glance, noting the tyres have been decided on… Supersofts.

 

Kylo furrows his brow, confused by the choice.

 

The Sakhir circuit was renown for eating up rear tyres. Teams often opted for a two-stop strategy to change tyres twice due to this but it was possible to complete with one pit stop, even if it was a higher risk tactic. Two stops simply ate up time unnecessarily.

 

Besides, safe strategies weren’t exactly First Order’s typical approach. High-risk, lightning fast attack plans had secured wins and domination for the company the past decade.

 

Hux had told him they would be using Soft tyres and move onto Medium’s for the rest of the race in order to make them last. The two-stop strategy had been discussed but in the way one discusses eating fruit at a dessert buffet, it has to be acknowledged but it’s not an actual option. Using Supersofts would mean he’d have to pit earlier than with the Soft tyres, making it chancier to use the Mediums for such a long time.

 

Still it wasn’t his place to question Snoke as he’d learned the past decade. Snoke had made him a champion and the means were unimportant to the company.

 

Kylo steps away from the garage, looking out into the surrounding terrain as the sun sets.

 

Bahrain is always an evening race. The floodlights have been turned on; so strong they almost create an artificial time zone, a bubble of commotion and activity surrounded by a world at rest.

 

The Bahrain circuit was very different to Melbourne, overtaking was easier, the lanes larger and the track certainly more complex.

 

He surveys the open plains of the desert while his mind drifts back to Melbourne, the sky turning purple as the sun’s last traces dip below the dunes, gusts of gentle wind peeling light layers of sand away and drifting across the landscape in dancing trails.

 

He had seen that British girl from Resistance Racing again. She’d had a good qualifier yesterday, coming 4th in the grid, although he had tried not to take notice. He clenches his teeth. That raw and ragged feeling of hatred never fails to sear through him when the thought of the vile orange jumpsuit, the same _she_ had been wearing that day, enters his mind.

 

He inspects his own black jumpsuit, deep in thought.

 

They had only ever wanted him for the points.

 

The combined points of the two drivers that would let them win the Constructor's Trophy, not to be a winner in his own right.

 

That was for Poe apparently.

 

It made sense enough in the business. Kylo’s technique and temper had only ever threatened his family’s reputation so they kept him from achieving his true potential and maintain Poe as the poster boy for Resistance Racing, with him secondary, a support, not to get in the way of Poe's success.

 

Of course, Kylo would have only damaged the brand.

 

His father and his uncle had tried their best to stifle him, they wanted him to be weak and pathetic, a puppet to direct and use, just like he was as a boy.

 

But Snoke showed him another way.

 

He had given him advice and accepted Kylo’s anger even when he was still Ben Solo, showing him how to use it in his racing to win. He could let loose his anger, be free and it would guide him to victory.

 

And now he was a 4-time Formula One Champion, on-par with Poe despite the other man’s head start in the business and would be starting from P1 in the grid after dominating the Saturday qualifiers.

 

The thought that he had in some way managed to destroy Resistances’ plans still gave him a lot of pride.

 

But now… they had taken in another stray.

 

Rey.

 

A no one from nowhere.

 

Kylo was sure they had done it as an insult towards him, he came from a prestigious racing family, not that the public was aware, with enough natural talent to frighten the legends of the sport and still they would choose a nobody over him.

 

It didn’t matter, he had told himself when the line up of drivers had been announced in January, she would be used as his family saw fit; told what to say and do while rolling over and letting Poe gain all the glory. Eventually she would fade away, unimportant and forgettable in the sport’s history.

 

He had caved and looked her up three days later.

 

Only to see what kind of charity case his parents had adopted now, of course.

 

He wasn’t disappointed.

 

From what he could find in the interviews she had provided, she was from the area around the Silverstone Circuit, had been working in her foster father’s junkyard and did amateur karting as a past time.

 

No formal training. No right to be here.

 

Just a junkyard scavenger who’d gotten a free ride.

 

Still… her performance in Melbourne had been… astounding.

 

A newcomer taking charge of a race and beating _him_?

 

He had underestimated her, thinking two-time champion Andor, was the threat. He had been mistaken and that mistake had cost him a podium. A fact Snoke hadn’t let him forget.

 

Snoke had been in his ear immediately, berating him for losing to a rookie, malicious and cruel until Kylo had thrown his helmet away in a fit of anger, rougher than he meant but that was unimportant. Snoke preferred him giving the cameras a show. There was no need for control in the moment.

 

But later, after Snoke had ripped into him for his performance, with Hux smirking behind him, providing snide remarks about every specific mistakes he’d made, Kylo had marched out of the pristine First Order garage planning to have a long hot shower back at his hotel before he was forced to the sponsor event that night to endure more spiteful remarks about the 2017 Champion’s less than impressive performance in the debut Grand Prix for 2018, he had passed one of the many screens dotted around the pits, to see her standing on the podium with Dameron and Andor, grinning excessively.

 

She seemed to exude a pure excitement untainted by the brutal industry and merciless expectations from the media and sponsors and fans and management.

 

Ren had taken a moment to study her in her happiness, oddly intrigued by the British woman, she had certainly shown ferocity that had taken him aback after qualifiers, not expecting the smiley chirpy girl to have such fury within her.

 

But now was not the time to dwell on _her_. The Bahrain Grand Prix was here and demanded his full attention. He wouldn’t fail Snoke again.

 

The past two weeks had been a brutal punishment. Snoke was obsessive in ensuring his training schedule would force him to be better, not miss opportunities, remember to be ruthless in his hunt for the championship… and now was time to stake his claim on it.

 

“Ren,” a stiff, pompous voice carries over to him sharply.

 

Kylo sighs, feeling his eye twitch at the voice, and takes a final glance at the dunes, now shadowed menacingly as the lights within the arena eclipse the outside world, before looking over to where Hux is waiting impatiently.

 

“I _do_ hope you’re not planning on foregoing the race… although it may in fact be an improvement from Melbourne,” the redhead snipes at him in his thin English voice.

 

Kylo just clenches his fists tight in his leather gloves, glaring at the First Order strategist.

 

Not yet, a cold voice seemed to whisper to him, save your rage for the race.

 

He turns towards his Silencer, stomping towards it.

 

With the amount of fury he had bottled up the past weeks for this race, it wouldn’t be difficult to dominate.

 

*** * ***

 

Rey’s X-Wing rumbles as she sits on P4 in the grid, anticipation tingling through her, making her heart beat loud in her ears, as she waits for the lights to glow red and disappear to begin the Bahrain Grand Prix.

 

The two-week break was absolutely torturous for Rey. The thrill of her first Grand Prix and podium finish had buoyed her through the first couple of days post-race but once her high simmered down, time seemed to positively _crawl_ by as she itched with anticipation to do it all over again.

 

She was addicted and it was clear nothing could remedy it other than racing and racing some more.

 

Training during the break had been intense and a decent distraction but it simply did not compare to the atmosphere and utter thrill of race day.

 

By the time the team flew into Bahrain on Wednesday Rey had felt like a tightly coiled spring, her energy ready to be released at a moment's notice with no option but to wait impatiently for Sunday, and even with the press commitments and panel interviews between then and the race nothing had dimmed her eagerness to get there.

 

Her FIA Press Conference was held on Thursday with two other drivers, Rey had found herself on the far left of the panel next to Bodhi Rook from Rogue Auto and Gwen Phasma to his right. Journalists filled the seats in front of them, pens poised to record anything and everything they could, from their responses to the slightest flicker of doubt that may cross their faces. Well, that was the general warning she had received from Poe and Finn before she began F1 interviews and panels. Often the mental game was just as important as the actual race so maintaining control was paramount.

 

A camera in front of them would swivel as journalists fired off question after question at the drivers.

 

“As your first Grand Prix, finishing second is pretty incredible, what do you think contributes to your success?”

 

“Do you think you’ll be able to emulate your performance this weekend?”

 

“How much pressure do you now feel going into Bahrain after your impressive debut?”

 

Rey gave vague, non-committal answers so they couldn’t corner her while happily praising her team and affirming Resistance’s optimism for the 2018 Championships.

 

However, once the questions were turned on Phasma it became much more difficult to maintain her composure.

 

“Is there a great deal of pressure to perform well in Bahrain considering First Order’s unexpectedly lacklustre results last race?”

 

It was uncharitable to smile but Rey certainly struggled to keep her face neutral. She could practically hear Phasma’s jaw grinding and feet the hot anger sloughing from her direction.

 

Served them right, really, for being such gits.

 

“First Order generally triumphs in Bahrain. So no, we aren’t feeling any pressure,” came Phasma’s icy, hostile reply.

 

Rey was just surprised the journalist didn’t develop a sudden case of hypothermia.

 

Leaving the conference room alleviated much of Rey’s tension, though she somehow felt more exhausted after it than after a whole Grand Prix race.

 

Friday and Saturday’s practices had been very smooth, the team working seamlessly together to place decent runs and improve their workmanship within their different departments and she had even placed 4th in the Saturday qualifiers, beating out legends she had watched when she was younger, like Sideon Ithano and Chirrut Imwe and Ahsoka Tano, to place there. The only thing that came close to spoiling her weekend was when she was in the unfortunate position of having to watch Kylo Ren secure P1 in the qualifiers. Other than that she had been lucky enough to barely spot the moody prick.

 

Now her X-Wing idles proudly in the grid, while she tries to keep herself from bouncing childishly in her seat with so much energy pent up for the race.

 

The first light appears and the sound of revving engines increases.

 

Then the second, the third, fourth, fifth.

 

And then they disappear.

 

Rey slams her foot down.

 

* * *

 

Kylo presses the gear lever down, rapidly decreasing speed as he takes Turn 10 sharply, wrenching his Silencer around the tight corner of the circuit.

 

His position in P1 hasn’t even been challenged in this race so far, although he punishes his car through the circuit anyway, pushing to ensure he gets enough time between himself and Dameron in second to protect their two-stop strategy for the race.

 

From the moment the lights disappeared he had a good take off, separating himself easily from the pack of jostling cars and throttling down the straights and wrangling corners determinedly.

 

Now on Lap 18 he’s firmly in charge of the race, but Dameron isn’t far behind him.

 

“Ren!” A thin, grating voice barks through his comm-link. “Incident on track, Safety Car will be deployed. We want you to pit ASAP.”

 

Kylo feels his eye twitch involuntarily at Hux’s voice but he barks back an affirmative, knowing the logic in pitting now while his competition will be held up by the speed limit of a safety car.

 

Moments later a yellow light flashes at him from his steering wheel and, as he bursts down the straight towards Turn 11, another yellow ‘SC’ sign flashes past him from the side, indicating a safety car in play and to slow down to the allotted speed.

 

Kylo hauls around Turn 15 finally arriving at the pit lane entry not a moment too soon as he feels the Supersoft tyres beginning to slide, losing their grip.

 

He bolts into the pit stop, mechanics waiting.

 

There’s the jolt, the high screech and rapid grinding of drills as new tyres are attached before he’s dropped back down and rockets out of the pits with a squeal of the fresh tyres.

 

“Do be careful with those tyres, Ren,” comes an indifferent drawl from Hux in his helmet. “Those Softs may need to last a while.”

 

“Softs?” Kylo grounds out confused. He had still been expecting Mediums to be attached. “I thought we agreed o-.”

 

“We agreed on nothing, only options were given and we are not in the position to choose tactics, must I remind you who has the _lead_ in the championships?”

 

“I should have been informed,” he growls back.

 

“You have been,” comes the clipped response. “Just now.” And the comm-link fizzles out.

 

He grits his teeth, trying not to slam his fists into his steering wheel as he re-enters the race in 5th, slipping in behind one of the Fett racers as he spots Phasma just ahead of it.

 

Kylo presses down on the cars in front of him, his Silencer quickly eating up the distance.

 

He waits for the safety car to be recalled so he can overtake again and two laps later the yellow light disappears and the cars let loose.

 

Kylo hounds the grey and blue car in its slipstream waiting for a corner. He glances at his mirrors, glimpsing a flash of orange as the Fett car holds him up.

 

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, nearly doing a double take.

 

The girl from Resistance.

 

He blinks a few times to refocus, getting closer to the Fett vehicle as Phasma creates more of a gap, now is not the time. He has to get past this junkyard racer and then he might have some space to think about the threat she poses.

 

There!

 

Fett turns into the left-handed corner, probably trying to block him from overtaking from the inside, but his ill thought out plan leaves him well and truly open on the outside and, for a racer as agile as his Silencer, it’s a pathetic attempt at a challenge.

 

He swoops around the outside of the other car, slamming in front of Fett and feeling a sense of power gratify him as the blue racer accepts his overtake by moving back to the middle.

 

But just as he exits the corner the feeling is eradicated as an orange blur rockets past.

 

* * *

 

Rey lets out a loud whoop of excitement as she powers past the two F1s on the corner and then uses the momentum to make quick work of the second Silencer in front of her.

 

The start of the race hadn’t been the cleanest for Rey, she’d nearly immediately been pushed back in the pack in the commotion of the start and she lost ground thanks to some sneaky moves from Phasma and Fett, yet she had determinedly kept up during the laps and finally an opportunity presented itself not long after Ren’s black and red Silencer slunk back into the race in front of her.

 

She had pushed down the anger that reared itself as Ren entered her sight and instead focused on gaining on the pack ahead while the Safety Car still held up the racers.

 

When Ren suddenly slipped out from behind Fett, overtaking from the outside and nearly brushing wheels with the blue car as he passed it Rey made her move. She had space around her so she utilised it, leaning into the right of the track just before the corner and angling her car to cut across it as directly as possible, so she didn’t have to slow as much as the small pack ahead of her, and then absolutely slammed down on the accelerator as soon as Ren slotted in in front of Fett, leaving a nice little gap in the inside for Rey to exploit.

 

“NICE REY!” She hears Finn’s voice scream down the line as she glides into position in front of Phasma. The comm-link buzzes out after a moment and then a few seconds later it buzzes on again, Finn’s excited voice only slightly more restrained.

 

“Good work, Peanut, we want you to try and delay Ren. Looks like First Order are doing a two-stop race so the longer you can hold him up the better. He’s got fresh tyres though so this is a short-term strat. As soon as he overtakes we’ll get you in for a tyre change.”

 

“Got it,” Rey replies determinedly as she sees Ren’s dark Silencer slink past Phasma’s and fill her rear-view mirrors.

 

She pushes hard, the bright yellow lines on Ren’s black tyres indicated he had opted for Soft tyres, which should only last 30 laps at a stretch, designed for speed rather than durability. With 37 laps still to go she could definitely ruin his race; if she can hold him up, it will take longer for Ren to take back the lead and ensure he doesn’t reclaim pole position after his next pit stop.

 

She races towards corner 10 braking sharply, Ren’s Silencer still menacing her rear-view mirror, yet manoeuvres through the difficult downward corner unscathed and guards her position as he probes her defences.

 

She keeps her lead, holding him up at every safe opportunity and she can almost sense his frustration as she blocks his attempts to overtake around each corner, the two moving in near perfect harmony as they brake and accelerate and flow, negotiating the track around them.

 

Suddenly they’re passing through the final turn and onto the main straight.

 

He’s still tight behind her X-Wing, and she pushes her car harder but, quick as the snake he is, he slips out of her slipstream, using the momentum to pass her as forces work against her. He slips in front and begins to really press forward, a gap developing between them as his fresher tires show their worth against her worn ones.

 

She presses her lips into a thin line in frustration as he gains on Poe and Andor who are fighting it out for the lead and barely notices as Phasma’s Silencer fills her rear mirror. Too soon, the glossy black and red car is sidling up beside her on the inside lane fighting for dominance on the track and then slipping past smoothly.

 

Rey shoves her foot down harder in desperation, urging her car to go faster as she feels the race beginning to slip away from her control.

 

She gains back a bit of space on Phasma and as Turn 4 approaches she gets into position for an overtake, she’s further back than she’d like but she needs to make a move or else she may as well pack it in now, she aims wide, swooping around the glossy racer…

 

And her front left wheel clips the curb roughly.

 

Rey’s X-Wing barrels into a rapid 360 spin, pushing her forcefully against the side of her cockpit. Somehow she keeps some control and the car rights itself to a near stop on the track without stalling.

 

_Zoom!_

 

_Zoom! Zoom!_

 

Cars whizz past as Rey shoves down the accelerator and tries to get back up to speed.

 

“Come on come on,” she gripes desperately.

 

“Rey is the car alright?” Finn’s voice fills the line.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Come in and pit just in case.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Rey streaks down the line but something feels off. The car isn’t hitting the top speed, she’s sure of it.

 

Another car zooms past.

 

But she finally rounds 15 and can slip into the pit lane. She rockets into the Resistance pit stop and feels the jolt as the car is lifted and new wheels are swapped out. Seconds later the car slams back to the ground and she takes off, zipping out of the pits and back onto the racetrack.

 

30 seconds later her comm-link crackles, Han’s voice filling the line.

 

“Rey, we saw some damage to the car.”

 

Dread weighs down her chest.

 

“No, no. It’s fine I can do this. I’ll finish the race. I can still get points.”

 

“There’s no point, kid. We want you to come back in.”

 

“You want me to retire?” She wheezes out, feeling a clench of fear constrict her chest.

 

Oh no. This is so not happening.

 

She puts her foot down on the accelerator trying to catch the Jedi car she sees in front of her.

 

“Rey? You copy?”

 

She grits her teeth but stays silent. She can do this. She can see the gap between the cars whittling down. She can show them she can still compete, at least then they might not be so disappointed in her.

 

“Rey!?”

 

A turn approaches and an opportunity to overtake with it, she just has to secure the inside lane.

 

Rey brakes hard.

 

But the car doesn’t slow.

 

She yanks the wheel left to avoid the Jedi racer and plummets out onto the rutted gravel, debris flying up around her.

 

The barrier is coming closer alarmingly quickly. Rey tries pumping the brakes again.

 

Nothing.

 

She angles the car in an attempt to use as much space as possible to slow her momentum.

 

It’s enough.

 

Just.

 

She slides into the wall with a nasty snap as her front wing breaks but the impact is otherwise relatively soft.

 

“Rey?! You alright? Can you hear us?”

 

Rey scrunches her eyes shut, resting her helmeted head in her hands for just a moment before pressing the comm-link.

 

“I’m all good. Break failure, I think.”

 

“Alright. Wait for the officials and come back to the garage,” Han’s brusque voice clicks out with the comm.

 

Anxiety begins to cloud her mind, arms and hands feeling light and hollow.

 

Now she’s done it.

 

Not only did she ignore orders, but her decision to do so also caused more damage to the car. Costs will be massive. It’ll mean more work for Chewie and the mechanics. She won’t secure any points for Resistance. She’s messed it up. Proven every single doubt the team must have about her right. She _is_ a complete novice trying to compete with masters in an industry she has no real grasp of.

 

Rey takes a breath, trying to dispel the rising panic as she extracts herself from the car and a race marshal approaches at a jog, checking her over and then walking her to the barriers to get out of the track arena just as a tow truck appears.

 

When she finally reaches the Resistance garage she slinks into the workshop area, mechanics are returning to their seats or tidying up old tyres and drills as they clear away the equipment from Poe’s pit stop she just missed.

 

Han’s eyes are glued to the screen, a look of full concentration on his face, as he’s absorbed in the race. Rey can barely look at him. Shame making her shrink in on herself.

 

Rose gives her a warm hug as they settle in to a pair of stiff folding chairs, chattering quietly at her.

 

Rey only catches snippets of Rose’s words, something about a weird strategy from First Order, Poe swapping onto Mediums, her brain feels staticky and slow as though she can’t remember how to properly process the world. She wishes Finn were here, but he’ll be providing support to Poe’s strategists now, scrambling for another plan to win the race.

 

She settles in uncomfortably to watch Poe try to claim victory for resistance, doing her best to ignore her guilt for not being there to help him do so.

 

* * * 

 

Kylo thunders down the track, entering Lap 41/57.

 

He can feel his tyres starting to lose grip, not as effective as they were 23 laps ago when they were first attached, and he finds himself using much gentler driving techniques. Ones he hasn’t relied on much in over a decade.

 

Hux’s clipped voice had come over the comm-link shortly after Lap 25 telling him in no uncertain terms that Dameron and Andor had swapped to Medium tyres in their pit stops, leaving him well ahead in first place but them _both_ with fresher tyres and the clear one-stop endurance strategy in mind. To add to that, his lead did not allow for enough time to make another pit stop _and_ return to the race ahead of Andor in second.

 

Therefore he was now expected to remain on Soft tyres for the remaining 16 laps.

 

The British girl did a decent job of holding him up and for some curious reason the thought doesn’t fill him with loathing, despite the anger he can now certainly expect from Snoke.

 

He takes corner 4, feeling his racer slide slightly on the tight turn.

 

He curses Hux internally.

 

The slimy jerk was the one who would face his full fury when he next saw him.

 

If he ever saw him again, that is.

 

His tyres were getting to the point of dangerous. Their grip nearly non-existent as he peels down a straight and breaks earlier and more gently than he would usually, taking Turn 5 and 6 as delicately as possible, scrunching his face as he actively has to stop himself from instinctively driving hard and fast.

 

If he wants to finish this race he’s going to have to nurse these tyres until the very end and, seeing as he can expect no more support from his team, he can only rely on himself to do the job.

 

* * *

 

Rey watches as Poe overtakes Andor in a smooth practiced move, despite her disappointment in herself she feels a thrill of excitement as she sees him begin his pursuit of Ren on Lap 51/57.

 

Han squints at the large screen in front of him, hand holding lightly onto the headset as he follows the cars completing their laps on the screen, brow furrowed.

 

Finally Rey sees him move restlessly, a look of understanding crossing his face.

 

“Kaydel,” he says grimly into the mic to Poe’s main strategist. “First Order aren't going to pit again, let Poe know their strategy has changed.”

 

Rey looks in horror at the screen, feeling more guilt bunch up in her chest uncomfortably.

 

If she were out there, she could support Poe, try and force First Order into pitting again or just hamper their efforts if they had still decided to change tactics.

 

Now, all she could do as the cars on the screen complete lap after lap was hope that Ren’s worn tyres would slow him down enough for Poe to catch him.

 

It’s tedious and nerve-wracking.

 

But as she watches the F1s enter the final couple of laps she realises why his driving looks so different. He’s being careful, holding back to protect his worn tyres to make them last. It shouldn’t be possible, especially with Ren’s typical style of driving but here he is, gently negotiating corners while maintaining his lead, Poe simply unable to catch him.

 

She bites her nails wrapping one arm tightly around herself as her eyes are cemented to the screen.

 

Ren’s car flows down the track, Poe’s X-Wing following only a few car lengths behind.

 

Poe tries to slip around him a few times but he’s _just_ too far back to overtake and slinks back in behind Ren.

 

Come on, Poe, Rey wills silently, just a bit closer.

 

But it’s not enough.

 

Ren’s Silencer turns down the final straight, Poe’s X-Wing following. Rey can hear the crowd screaming as they bolt towards the finish line.

 

Ren hurtles under the gantry, pulling the win on tired tyres and Rey lets her face fall into her hands, devastated.

 

She could have prevented this.

 

Resistance could have won today.

 

 _She_ had ruined it.

 

A hand claps down on her shoulder briefly. She looks up slightly to see Han moving past her, his lips pressed into a thin line as he heads towards the Champions pits where Poe will arrive soon.

 

Rey sees the discontent on his face and stomach sink even lower, if possible.

 

She takes a deep gulp and follows him out with Chewie and Rose and the other mechanics, trying not to make eye contact to avoid any accusing glares.

 

They meet Finn and the other strategists who look quite delighted despite the First Order win.

 

Finn gives her a big hug when he sees her face.

 

“Come on, Peanut, cheer up,” he says exuberantly. “You overtook Crylo Ren in the race. That was _damn_ impressive!”

 

Rose and Paige giggle and Rey cracks a bit of a smile at his droll attitude, reminding herself that Finn would always love her even if she was a failure. She turns to wait for Poe to come into the Champions pits, sticking close to her friends.

 

* * *

 

Kylo speeds up to the first place marker, sliding it forwards a bit as he stops.

 

He releases himself from his car stretching out his tight muscles as he stands for the first time in a couple of hours. The crowd screams as he moves around but he ignores it, taking his time to check over his Silencer and looking at his tyres.

 

He’s completely unsurprised to find them stripped back, nearly bald with the lack of tread left on them and is somewhat surprised that he even made it through the race, considering how little grip they had.

 

Once satisfied that his car is otherwise undamaged he approaches his team at the barriers. Some are cheering but Snoke just appraises him with shrewd pale eyes.

 

“Much better, Ren,” he says icily. “Keep this up and we might make the new deal with Kyber Jewellers before China.”

 

Kylo bows his head in acceptance but can’t stop himself from saying something to his manager.

 

“I should have been given Mediums,” he growls. “Those tyres are shot.”

 

Snoke’s unsettlingly pale eyes harden imperceptibly.

 

“Our decisions won the race for you,” he says carefully, slowly, but it’s his stillness that betrays his anger.

 

Kylo opens his mouth to argue anyway but is cut off immediately.

 

“ _Don’t_ forget who is in charge, Ren, our tactics will keep you as champion, if you do indeed manage not to mess it up,” Snoke examines him disdainfully. “Perhaps you are getting soft.”

 

Something in his tone tips Kylo off; it’s the tone of a man who has just seen things go exactly the way he knew they would.

 

“You never planned on pitting me twice,” he realises.

 

Snoke’s twisted lips twitch in what could almost be amusement.

 

“There’s always an advantage in keeping your opponents off balance,” Snoke replies malevolently. “ _You_ , however, do not need to be aware of every decision I make. I have found that there is a certain desperation in you that makes you focus, regardless of how foolish the plan seems.”

 

Kylo stiffens in fury, breathing heavily out of his nose. He hears Dameron’s X-Wing pull up behind him.

 

Snoke gives him one last bored look before looking away as if in indifferent disgust.

 

“Go on, pick up the trophy and get out of my sight.”

 

Kylo turns sharply away stalking towards the stairs as he hears Resistance yelling in celebration, urging his feet to move faster away from the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Rey listens as the final notes of the American anthem fade out and watches as Poe puts down his trophy to scoop up his bottle of champagne, shaking it quickly and releasing it directly down towards Rey and the other members of Resistance.

 

She embraces the cold bubbles despite it sticking to her uncomfortably in the humid night air. She grins back at Finn when he turns to her jumping about excitedly at Poe’s success but just can’t seem to keep it up after he turns away to look admiringly up at the runner up. The disappointment weighing down her chest is becoming too heavy, too dense and she looks for an escape from the tightly packed area beneath the balcony, as the pressure of panic feels like it might crack her open for everyone to see.

 

She spots a small opening in the crowd, leading toward the paddock, and takes one last glance up at the balcony, seeing Poe spraying Andor before gulping at the last bits of his champagne.

 

Despite herself, her eyes are drawn to the large, rigid figure of Kylo Ren, looming in black, grasping his unnecessarily oversized trophy by his side, almost as if he’s forgotten it’s there, champagne untouched.

 

His gaze is glued on her and she locks eyes with him, feeling something physically tug in her chest, as he pins her down with his stare.

 

It’s watchful and dark, and she can’t seem to look away.

 

* * *

 

Kylo studies her dejected face, unexpectedly bothered by how despondent she seems after seeing her so passionate in Australia.

 

He remains fixed on her well after she finds his gaze in some surprise and looks away a long moment later, slipping swiftly through the crowd and out of sight.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:          43

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:                 37

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:                  30

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:         22

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:               18

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                           18

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                                10

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                       10

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                       6

Garth Maul - Sith:                                    4

Baze Malbus - Force One:                        3

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:               1

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:         0

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                           0

Mace Windu - Jedi:                                  0

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                             0

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                         0

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:             0

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:             0

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                         0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally squealed when I got my first kudos (and second and third - alright every time) if you do feel inclined to click that button or comment just know, somewhere off in the distance, I'll be wheezing with happiness xx


	3. Shanghai, China

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Finally got around to posting this, life got so busy and I had nearly zero time to dedicate to writing for a while but here it is! *spirit fingers*  
> Thank again for all the support guys, I've finally got a tentative chapter layout (woo!) but who knows if it'll change!
> 
> We get more Kylo in this chapter aaand another encounter ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoy xx

If Rey had been yearning for the Bahrain GP throughout the long 2-week wait, in comparison the interim week before the Chinese GP hurtled by far too quickly; the Resistance team flying from Bahrain directly into Shanghai on the Tuesday after Rey’s devastating retirement from the race.

 

Not that the rest of the team seemed to find it devastating.

 

In fact, they seemed positively chipper about the whole debacle, if not slightly sympathetic to Rey’s disappointment in her performance.

 

She had had a stern dressing down from Han during the Monday debrief, concerning her failure to listen to pit lane advice and the importance of communication, which could have been ironically amusing, if she’d had half an interest in laughing, considering the short conversation was punctuated with grunts and concluded with a vague ‘you know, kid?’. Apart from that everyone seemed to move on incredibly quickly to the next focus: China.

 

The only problem was that she had not.

 

The chilly, gusting wind does nothing to sooth her frazzled nerves and the cloudy, overcast sky presses down on her uncomfortably as she silently follows Poe down the paddock towards the Resistance garage, having just finished their driver meeting.

 

Rey had agonised over every single detail of the Bahrain race and found only one explanation: she was the problem. She let desperation take over, panic her and leave her making foolish mistakes. She had easily done that corner hundreds of times over the weekend and it had been her carelessness and desperation that lead to her mucking it all up. She was the reason for damaging her car and she was the reason Resistance failed to claim top spot.

 

There was no way her team hadn’t realised that.

 

She was certain the only reason none of them had confronted her about her failure was because they were trying to soften the eventual blow of when she was dropped from the team. Abandoned again.

 

Even if they no longer believed in her they were still good people and would try to protect her feelings from the harsh reality as long as possible. She loved them even more for trying to shield her but mostly she just wanted the honest truth, the fear from not knowing had to be the worst part of it all.

 

But maybe, just _maybe_ , China could be a moment of redemption, maybe they would change their minds, if only she could do her job.

 

Just thinking about the fast approaching race makes her stomach churn uncomfortably again, anxiety gripping up her ribs and tightening in her chest as she enters the garage after Poe to meet the rest of the team inside.

 

* * *

 

“No no no no no!”

 

Rey slams her palm against the steering wheel as she careens off the track and rolls to a stop, hitting the barrier with a loud crunch.

 

Her practice rounds had been steady, Q1 hadn’t been bad, she had placed the 7th fastest time, but not even 20 seconds into her first lap in Q2 and she had completely screwed it up, a gust of wind hitting her at the Turn 3 hairpin and sending her sliding off the track, car lurching about as she failed to regain control.

 

Rey jumps out of her X-Wing and jogs forward to have a glance at the front of her car.

 

The front wing was crumpled, parts missing completely near the right wheel, which was bent at a completely wrong angle, looking particularly unpleasant.

 

“Ugh!”

 

Rey drops into a crouch next to the mangled wheel, frustration just too much to bear as she slaps her fist against her helmet.

 

“Why?!”

 

This was getting ridiculous. Why couldn’t she do anything right?!

 

Not only would she only place 15th in the grid line up tomorrow but Chewie and the rest of the mechanics would have a big job making sure her car was fit for racing tomorrow.

 

“Rey, you okay?” Rey straightens quickly as Han’s voice crackles onto the line and a navy-clad race marshal approaches at a jog to check the hazard and hustle her over the barrier.

 

“I’m fine,” she replies

 

“Good to hear, you’re done for the day, come back in and we’ll get the car cleaned up.”

 

“Got it.”

 

A silver scooter approaches, small engine whining at the speed being demanded of it.

 

As if crashing out of Q2 wasn’t embarrassing enough, now she has to hitch a ride on the back of the breakdown scooter, just so everyone could really see her failure made tangible.

 

She swallows what’s left of her tattered pride and slips on the back of the seat, grateful at least for her helmet shielding her from the watchful eyes as her orange jumpsuit positively screams for attention in the gloomy, overcast day.

 

Her driver drones past the track from inside the safety barrier at top speed, which Rey guesses is around 25miles/hour and as soon as it slows enough near the pits she leaps off the back, giving him a quick ‘thank you’ and hurrying off to the Resistance garage.

 

But as she gets closer she finds that she would rather be anywhere else. Seeing her team’s disappointment in her sounds like the least attractive thing in the world to her right about now. But what other choice does she have? It’s not like she can avoid them forever, however appealing that idea sounds.

 

Suddenly everything is too contained, too tight. Rey rips off her helmet and gulps in air hoping no one takes any notice of her just standing there looking like a ridiculous fraud in the presence of professionals.

 

The sounds are loud in her ears. Electric drills whirring, metal clanking and echoing against concrete while engines roar all about. Rey tries to find her centre in the midst of it all, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing.

 

“That’s another crash for Rey Smith from Resistance, who’s had a run of bad luck it seems, but I guess we’ll see if she can mentally pick herself up from this set back and be a major competitor.”

 

Rey’s eyes snap open.

 

Two brown-haired men carrying microphones are walking along the pit lanes following a cameraman stepping carefully backwards, camera hoisted on his shoulder.

 

She backs up into the shadows praying they didn’t spot her. There are enough people milling in the paddock area that she thinks it’s still a possibility.

 

“Yeah, we really haven’t seen her in that great form that we saw in Australia. So what do you think Bren, do you believe it's inexperience that’s getting to her or the mental challenges of F1 racing?”

 

“It is probably a bit of both,” the shorter one replies, looking like he’s thinking hard. “I mean you and I have seen _many_ times how when you hit that rut it can be really hard to pick yourself up and get back into a good state of mind where optimal racing _can_ take place. Especially after Melbourne she had such good results and the expectations have just really got to her it seems,” he finishes simply.

 

“Yeah, totally agree,” nods the one with the thick moustache, “as is the way of F1. It’s a real disappointment because we can obviously see her potential but perhaps she just isn’t quite experienced enough to be driving in this line up.”

 

The first one nods looking back to the camera. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, tomorrow Smith will be starting in P15, and we’ll know if her car will be back in form and ready to race.”

 

“Now on to Rogue Racers; they had a very impressive Q1 and are looking impeccable so far.”

 

Rey stays stock still as the commentators walk away and their voices fade before she takes a breath and tries to pull the pieces inside her back together enough to enter the Resistance garage.

 

* * *

 

Kylo storms through the pits, scooping up his helmet as Hux hurries next to him, trying to navigate through the usual race day clamour in order to give him yet more unhelpful pointers.

 

“Keep an eye on fuel consumption Ren, we don’t want any avoidable technicalities ruining a pole position today,” Hux stipulates haughtily. “Snoke wants a secure win so we can announce the contract with Kyber as soon as possible.”

 

“I was in the same room when the contract was signed,” Kylo seethes in return, wishing he were already in his Silencer with as much distance between him and everyone else. “I am aware of what is required.”

 

The discussions with Kyber Jewellers had gone well… as well as discussions between ruthless business executives could be expected to go anyway. A decent agreement was struck for both parties, Kyber agreeing to join as significant sponsors for First Order in return for advertising and access to new clients within First Order’s ties. However, it ended with an added proviso:

 

The sponsorship wouldn’t be announced and thus contract provisions wouldn’t be implemented until First Order secured their next Grand Prix win.

 

Leaving the entire burden yet again piled on him to claim the Chinese GP. Because of some stupid business executive who wanted as much publicity off his back as possible.

 

Snoke made sure he was aware throughout the week of just how significant Kyber’s backing was and how much First Order would benefit from more high profile sponsors in different mediums.

 

So no pressure.

 

Snoke waits on them at the front of the garage, his thin frame silhouetted peculiarly by the dull light spilling in.

 

Hux immediately transforms into a simpering sycophant.

 

“Sir, I have examined the potential merchandise Kyber Jewellers have provided yet again and I must say, it might make more of a statement to use some of the jewellery in addition to the hat,” he sneers, barely hiding a self-satisfied smirk. “Perhaps the silver chain?”

 

Kylo bristles, to his disgust Kyber had been angling for some of their designs to be worn by himself and Phasma. Just the thought of being dressed up in shining trinkets like Hux wants, causes mortification to burn at his ears.

 

Snoke examines Hux for a moment, allowing his invasive stare to shake Hux’s confidence.

 

“I believe I made myself clear on that front, Hux,” Snoke replies coolly. “This contract is important but our image will not be undermined. Especially not by your own conceited, egocentric interests.”

 

Hux visibly pales.

 

“Shouldn’t you be at the pit wall?” Snoke continues.

 

“Y-yes, sir,” Hux scurries away.

 

Snoke watches him leave for a moment before speaking.

 

“I see,” Snoke says to Kylo in his deep, icy voice when they are alone, “that he is now attempting to think for himself. He has his uses but his overconfidence _must_ be checked.” He pauses, looking directly at Kylo. “It is vital to keep the cur on a _short_ leash.”

 

Kylo remains silent yet he certainly feels a sense of gratification at Hux’s humiliation.

 

“Now Ren,” Snoke turns his full attention on him. “I don’t believe I need to restate the importance of winning this race, do I?” He asks mildly.

 

“No.”

 

“Good. Win.”

 

With that Kylo strides away, cutting through the clamour of people on his way to the track where reporters are milling about.

 

He meets Phasma out on the grid while they wait for their cars to be wheeled out.

 

She gives him a sharp nod, which he returns. That’s the good thing about Phasma; she never pushes for conversation.

 

The bad thing is that she is completely focused on First Order’s rules and refuses to bend for any reason.

 

It’s not like she worships Snoke even, it’s almost she worships being controlled, following a man who has certainty in his vision, being told exactly what to do and when to do it.

 

Following orders. It’s why she’ll never be a champion.

 

He spots Dameron talking smoothly with a reporter, the dismal weather doing basically nothing to dampen his high opinion of himself.

 

The girl is there too. Three different reporters from different publications have microphones in her face peppering her with questions.

 

Kylo frowns. Her posture screams defensive. And she doesn’t look at all well; her sun-kissed skin looking much paler than he’d previo-.

 

No. Not your problem, he scolds himself as he lines up with Phasma for the obligatory photo, waiting on more than half of the other drivers to hurry up and get on with it.

 

She had caught his eye at the last podium and for reasons unbeknownst to him, it seemed like more than just looking at one another. She _saw_ him in that moment, and it felt like something akin to momentous. So he had avoided any contact whatsoever with her. Not at all wanting anything more to happen that would make him feel… anything at all.

 

She was danger. That was the only thing he was certain of.

 

The rest of the drivers finally get their act together long enough to take a damn picture and they’re allowed to go to their cars, which have been wheeled out and prepped through all the commotion on the grid.

 

Kylo pointedly ignores two avid reporters as the approach him eagerly, brushing them off easily with his long strides as he settles into his Silencer.

 

Snoke would not be pleased if he came anything other than first in this race so there was only one way it could really end.

 

* * *

 

Rey tries to blink away the exhaustion as she grips the steering wheel and jerkily takes the right hand hairpin of Turn 14. A gust of wind buffets her as she heads down the short straight after 15, and she knows its losing her time as she tries to go faster still to make it up. 12 laps in and Rey has made her way up two positions, struggling each time with her timing and focus as she tries to fight through the mid-field cluster.

 

She had stayed up late with the mechanics, in the Resistance garage, the harsh light illuminating every angle of her broken X-Wing as they tried to repair the damage to the undercarriage, replace the front lower and upper wishbone and ensure the brake duct would be fully operational in one night. While she had enough experience repairing vehicles, last night she had felt leaden and blunt and more useless than nearly ever before, and eventually, after she had gotten in the way one too many times, Rose told her firmly yet kindly that they would look after her car and to get some sleep.

 

So she had left, feeling cold and lonely, despite the warm hugs the Tico sisters gave her, only to toss and turn in the luxurious hotel duvet not feeling at all enough comfort to slip into a peaceful sleep, fitfully catching moments of uneasy unconsciousness every now and then.

 

Rey widens her eyes, trying to moisten the dry feeling of tiredness there as she presses down on Bridger in his red and white Rebellion racer. She tries to get into his slipstream, following closely behind in order to allow the forces to work against his car while easing the strain on her own. It only takes her a few moments to realise it’s not an effective tactic, their relatively slow speeds and heavy swerving making it too difficult and futile to work.

 

Rey backs off slightly, letting a gap form and she takes a moment to refocus on what Quiggold from Kanata is doing in her rear-view mirror.

 

Not a moment too soon either as she sees him slip to the right as Turn 4 approaches, trying to gain the outside before it turns into an inside advantage for turn five. She blocks his advance, shifting to the left and he immediately presses to her right. Rey returns the favour and slips right as well. She grimaces, that’s all she can do to defend now. Rules stipulate that drivers cannot make more than two blocks in a row so collisions are avoided and speed isn’t impacted too much. All she can do is hope that her speed holds him off.

 

Rey manages it, and she uses the short straight to maintain her lead as she passes Turn 5. She uses the second short straight before the hairpin of turn 6 to press down closer to Bridger, trying to refocus on her initial aim.

 

She glances back to check on Quiggold; she’s got maybe a second gap between them. Good, she thinks grimly, hoping she can make that gap larger in the next couple of turns.

 

Rey looks ahead.

 

Brake lights.

 

Too soon.

 

Rey tenses for impact, not even having time to turn her steering wheel before she smashes into Bridger’s red and white f1, her right wheel breaking off in a flurry of debris as she collects the Rebellion vehicle, skidding over to the other side of the track.

 

“Rey?!” Finn’s deep, panicked voice comes over the comm-link before the vehicles even stop moving.

 

“Rey?! You alright? Can you answer?”

 

Rey takes a shaky breath as her car stops shuddering and everything stills to steaming halt.

 

“I’m fine Finn,” she replies quickly, trying to stop him spiralling.

 

“Oh thank God,” Finn practically breathes out.

 

Rey gets out of her car, trying not to look at it.

 

Less than 24 hours and she has managed to nearly total it twice. She flinches from the thought, the entrenched feeling of unworthiness throbbing painfully in her gut and seeping through her bloodstream.

 

Rey sighs and goes towards Bridger who has extricated himself from his own damaged vehicle, wondering just how many times she’ll need to apologise for messing this one up.

 

* * *

 

Kylo veers around the final corner and slams his foot down on the gas pedal hard as he garners speed down the long straight, nudging past 190mph before he has to break again for the corner.

 

He’s been virtually unchallenged the whole race, effortlessly leading throughout the contest. He’s pushed his Silencer to the limit trying to exploit every moment he’s had to its greatest extent in order to widen the lead he has on Dameron to its maximum.

 

On Lap 14/56 he had crawled past the turn 6 hairpin behind the safety car and seen the damage from the two F1s sprawled across the track as they lay steaming off the apex of the track corner. Two figures stood together at a distance, one dressed all in orange.

 

He had initially felt a stab of certainty at the sight of her failure and clear inability to control her race… yet there wasn’t the same feeling of righteousness that usually accompanies him being proven right. Just a dullness that almost felt like sadness, which wasn’t right, because he was in the lead, he had _nothing_  to be sad about.

 

The only time he had even had to contend with anyone was after his pit stop, where the mechanics operated as a swift, well-oiled machine to replace his tyres and return him to the race in near record time. He had sped down the pit lane, going as fast as the speed limit allowed before passing the boundary and opening the throttle, roaring out of the pits just in front of Dameron.

 

After that it was only a matter of keeping him at bay on his worn tyres until the Resistance driver would have to pit.

 

What was especially satisfying to watch was just how clearly Resistance was grasping at straws, as they were unable to beat his domination. Choosing to keep Dameron on the track instead of replacing his tyres in an effort to stop the gap from widening, yet only damaging his place in the race as he fell further and further back as his tyres degraded more and Andor, already pitted, gained on him until Dameron eventually left the track in defeat to complete his required pit stop, losing his second place position.

 

With just a few laps left to go, Kylo was in a solid position in, what was undoubtedly, one of the simplest races of his career. He just had to make sure nothing would happen to change that.

 

* * *

 

Rey sits outside the Resistance garage, a jutting vent concealing her from some of the world as she wallows.

 

Watching the race continue without her again with her hopes of redemption in tatters had been too heart breaking to bear. Even surrounded by people, she felt so alone and suffocated, with her tears threatening to spill over at any second.

 

She felt like her exposed, broken X-Wing, all her faults illuminated for the world to see. Every part of her that was left wanting and damaged on display.

 

So she ran away.

 

Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe it’s just in her nature. After all her parents ran away from her. Perhaps its just simple DNA.

 

Perhaps that’s the whole point of this F1 debacle. Prove to her once and for all that she will never be able to do this, that her parents left for a reason and it was because she simply wasn’t enough.

 

Rey takes a deep, settling breath.

 

Stop that, she thinks firmly to herself. You don’t know what happened. Maybe they had no choice. Maybe they’re looking for me still.

 

Rey wraps her arms around her knees and rests her head on them, the tears just not coming now that she’s alone. She listens to the sounds of the race go on without her and watches a piece of rubbish skitter around in the cool, blustery wind as she tries to remember the kind, loving parents she’s certain existed in her childhood, who could still come back.

 

* * *

 

Kylo speeds up to the 1st place marker in the winner’s pits, unfolding himself from his vehicle and checking over it to ensure there isn’t any damage. He pays no mind to the crowd or Andor and Dameron pulling up in second and third position respectively as he completes his checks, noting some deep scratches on the glossy body of his Silencer. He takes his time before approaching his own team. Snoke waits, a cold smile marring his pockmarked face, old burned skin puckering up his neck and jaw, supposedly from a fiery crash during his own career. He had got out; it’s said the other driver wasn’t as lucky.

 

“Well done, Ren. My faith in you is officially returned,” he says silkily.

 

Kylo just nods in reply.

 

Cameras flash.

 

“Do not forget the Kyber hat.” Snoke dismisses him, Kylo grits his teeth and nods again. He turns away and strides towards the garage to fetch the merchandise. Obedient as ever.

 

He smirks humourlessly. The world loved a good irony.

 

Snoke had crafted his image as an uncontrollable playboy since the moment he signed his contract with First Order. Snoke’s publicists worked hard over the years to mould his image; a fear-provoking dark presence that could not be controlled and would not listen to anyone he didn’t want to. His mysterious emergence onto the F1 scene had been constructed, fleshed out and concealed anything that tied him to the pathetic Ben Solo. The world saw a powerful, unmanageable figure, where reality left him as a dutiful pawn, with only few options in which to manoeuvre.

 

He ignores Resistance as he passes them on the way to the garage, including his father, they had come to an unspoken agreement over the past decade that any interaction would only result in yelling and violence, therefore pretending the other didn’t exist was the clear solution.

 

He grabs the new merch, and begins to walk through the paddock, heading towards the back stairs that lead to the champion’s room, where they congregate before being announced on the podium, when he spots an orange figure out of the corner of his eye.

 

The British girl. Kylo freezes, momentarily stumped by her appearance crouched on the ground. She hadn’t been at the champion’s pits with the rest of her team to cheer Dameron on then, he muses. Perhaps she had realised Resistance’s part in her failures, impeding her from reaching her potential. She had outclassed _him_ in Melbourne and even Bahrain at one point. She certainly had talent, despite her failure here.

 

Too bad Resistance will only stifle it.

 

She sits outside the back of the garage, next to a protruding vent that hides her from some directions, but not his. She stares forlornly into nothing.

 

Rey Smith, he reminds himself.

 

Kylo doesn’t know why he finds his feet taking him towards the Resistance garage. But he follows his instincts, preferring action than dwelling on things.

 

He approaches steadily and clears his throat when he’s a couple of metres away.

 

She looks up sharply with wide hazel eyes, before realising who is standing in front of her and scrambling to her feet, eyes narrowing with fury.

 

“What do you want?” She spits at him with venom. “Come to accuse me of cheating again?”

 

Kylo takes a controlled breath trying to calm himself. This clearly was not going to be easy.

 

“No,” he replies through clenched teeth. He takes another breath. “You’re a good racer,” he tells her simply.

 

She stares at him, looking taken-aback. She blinks.

 

Okay. That’s done, he thinks awkwardly to himself. Do I just leave?

 

That’s all he had to say to her really. And that she’s wasted on Resistance Racing but that seems too familiar, especially as she continues to stare at him uncomfortably, eyes unreadable.

 

This was a mistake.

 

Suddenly she scoffs.

 

“You really are an arsehole.”

 

He raises his eyebrows at her, it’s Kylo’s turn for his eyes to widen, he seethes, his constantly simmering anger rising easily.

 

“Excuse you?” He begins slowly, about to lay into this infuriating woman. “I-”

 

“No! Screw _you_! You insult me in Melbourne before you even know who I am and now just because you win and I had to retire you come and rub it in my face! So yeah, you are an arsehole, screw you, Ren!”

 

“How the _fuck_ am I rubbing it in your face?! I’m fucking apolo-!”

 

“BEN!”

 

* * *

 

“BEN!”

 

Rey whips her head around to find Han standing at the back door of the garage looking grim.

 

Ben? Who the hell was Ben?

 

Rey notices Ren freeze out of the corner of her eye.

 

She looks back at him in confusion and curiosity, outweighing the defensive anger and indignation she had just been throwing at him in spades.

 

But he’s no longer looking at her.

 

His gaze is locked onto Han, and although the unbridled, loud anger appears to have disappeared there’s a quiet stillness to the way he holds himself that doesn’t match the fury crackling in his dark eyes.

 

“Perhaps you should leave, Ben,” Han says carefully. “I won’t have my son talking to my drivers like that.”

 

Rey tries to stop her jaw from dropping at Han’s revelation, but fails miserably.

 

She looks between them wide-eyed.

 

Ren keeps staring at Han. She sees the skin under his left eye twitch in the effort to suppress his anger.

 

It’s tense and no one moves until suddenly he’s stalking stiffly away as quickly as he can and out of sight.

 

“You alright, kid?” Han asks her, suddenly seeming older than he did before.

 

Rey just nods silently, unsure if she can form a coherent sentence just now.

 

“You let me know if he bothers you again, got it? I was serious about what I said.”

 

The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them.

 

“So you mean I can stay on the team?”

 

It’s Han’s turn to look at Rey in shock.

 

“The hell do you mean?”

 

She can’t meet his eye.

 

“Bahrain… a-and today were terrible, I mean I was terrible, I lost the races so badly... I erm… thought you might have changed your mind about having me on the team this year.”

 

There’s silence for a few moments too long and Rey finally musters the courage to look up at Han, for him to tell her she’s right and she just made it easier on everyone by bringing it up.

 

But when she looks, there’s a deep frown on his face and something flickering in his brown eyes, seemingly in thought.

 

He finally speaks.

 

“Look kid, I don’t know exactly what your life was before, but you’re part of this team now. Pretty soon you might want out, ‘specially if you keep up performances like Melbourne but you’re stuck with us for as long as we can keep you,” he says firmly, giving her a tired roguish smile. “Besides, Chewie would have a fit if you left.”

 

Rey feels tears finally fill her eyes and she lunges forward grabbing Han in a hug around his middle.

 

“Alright, alright, enough of that,” he says gruffly, awkwardly extricating himself from her vice-like grip. “We gotta go and support Poe on the podium… you know how he’ll be if we miss his moment in the sunlight.”

 

Rey laughs wetly, reminding herself to get it the hell together.

 

“He’ll never let us forget it,” she replies with a lightness she hasn’t felt in what feels like weeks.

 

* * *

 

It’s later when Rey is officially frazzled from going over every detail she knows about Kylo Ren and wondering how the hell she didn’t know he was _the_ Han Solo’s son that she finally knocks on Finn’s hotel door in reckless curiosity.

 

He opens it wearing a plush white dressing gown with the hotel insignia threaded over his heart in a very dignified way.

 

“Oh hey, Peanut, what’s up?”

 

“Do you mind if I come in?”

 

“Sure! Did you hear me order lamb shanks from Room Service?" He teases cheekily. 

 

Rey rolls her eyes at Finn’s antics.

 

“Shut up,” she returns, fighting a smile.

 

“Hey you should be proud you can eat as much as me, it’s what will keep us bonded for life,” he says mock dreamily. “Do you like my gown?”

 

Rey laughs “I should have brought my own, we could have matched.”

 

He freezes and turns to her fully serious.

 

“Oh my god, go get it. That needs to happen stat!”

 

“Actually,” Rey begins hesitantly. “I’m kinda here for a different reason.” Unsure exactly where to begin.

 

“Okay shoot,” Finn says giving her his full attention as he settles into a high chair at the bench.

 

Rey takes a breath and decides to start from the beginning; how happy she felt after Melbourne, her first run in with Ren, how disappointed she was after Bahrain and China and how he approached her and what he said. She decides to leave out the moment during the podium at Bahrain, not entirely sure what to make of it herself.

 

Finn is both a great audience and terrible, he listens enraptured, gasping or making sympathetic noises in all the right moments but he also interrupts whenever he feels she isn’t mad enough about certain parts or to make sure she knows how great she is to him.

 

Secretly she doesn’t actually mind that last bit too much.

 

When she gets to the part about Han intervening and the big revelation he nearly falls off his chair.

 

“WHAT?!” He yells scrambling to get his balance.

 

“Did you know?”

 

“No! I thought the people that gave life to that monster must have been cult worshipers or something.”

 

“I didn’t know if I just missed some memo or something or if this was actually a massive secret, it’s been bothering me all day!”

 

“Okay, nah I can’t deal with this. We can’t deal with this. Do you know what we need?” Finn grips her shoulders and Rey shakes her head. “We need an expert.”

 

That’s how she finds herself being dragged down the hallway by Finn still in his white dressing gown to Poe’s room. Luckily the hallway was mostly empty. Unluckily, ‘mostly’ still meant a pair of elderly tourists gave them scandalised looks as Finn dragged her determinedly past them.

 

They finally reach Poe’s door without managing to give anyone else heart attacks and Finn knocks, barging through as soon as the door cracks open, nearly trampling Poe in his rush.

 

Finn’s totally out of breath in his excitement and hurry.

 

“You okay there, buddy?” Poe asks hesitantly.

 

Finn doesn’t say anything, still huffing, he points at Rey.

 

“You,” he pants, and then just gestures for her to take the floor and update Poe.

 

Poe looks suitably befuddled yet surprisingly receiving to listening to her so she begins her story again, still refraining from mentioning anything that feels too personal.

 

Once she finishes Poe says nothing. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Rey or Finn, who has now regained control of his breathing, they both use their composure to cock their heads at Poe, eyebrows raised, matching faces of expectation apparent.

 

He sighs clearly knowing he’s no match for them both in this instance.

 

“Alright yeah, I knew. It’s not really a secret, it’s just it happened before he turned pro so the media never really got a chance to find out. When I got signed to Resistance at 18, Ben was up and coming in the junior scene, we practised together a few times because they were going to sign him as a driver as soon as he was legal.

 

“I swear, the term intense dedication does not nearly cut it. I don’t think he thought about anything else except driving F1s and winning. He was always a bit of a moody jerk but nothing too major until one day, not long before he was gonna be signed, I came in for practice and there was a half-destroyed garage and a wreck of an X-wing and no one would say what had happened. Han and Luke were just really sketchy on the subject. Next thing we know a driver no one’s ever heard of called Kylo Ren has been signed for a new team called First Order Racing and when we turn up to the 2007 Championships months later; it’s Ben. Luke retired early on that season.”

 

Rey and Finn sit in silence for a while, trying to absorb the information dump.

 

Finn visibly cringes.

 

“Oh crap.”

 

Rey and Poe look over at him in concern.

 

“What’s up?” Poe asks.

 

A look of pure horror engulfs Finn’s face.

 

“I called him Crylo Ren in front of Han,” he whispers in horror.

 

* * *

 

After a quick interlude in which Rey and Finn race back to their rooms they reconvene in Poe’s room, kitted out in matching dressing gowns and scoffing room service as they trade stories and laugh at another one of Finn’s many embarrassing blunders in Han’s presence.

 

“Hey! You guys don’t have to try as hard to satisfy Han, he still gives me crap for that ‘big shot’ line!”

 

That only makes them laugh harder and eventually Finn caves and chuckles affably with them.

 

It’s that same laughter carries Rey back to her room hours later after the boys had each nodded off during the comically awful comedy showing on TV, feeling more at peace and content than she could remember.

 

Apart from one thing.

 

A niggling feeling was itching at the base of her neck whenever she thought back to her confrontation with Ren - or Ben - or whoever the hell he was.

 

Whenever she remembered their encounter she couldn’t help the creeping feeling of shame at responding so furiously to him. She had let her fear and anger take over and been helpless to stop her barrage at Ren. Even if he did deserve it.

 

…Didn’t he?

 

He had almost said he was apologising though, right? Before Han had cut him off?

 

It certainly hadn’t been much of an apology.

 

An admission might be more accurate, she thinks derisively as she swipes open her door and slips inside.

 

Yet… in his accusations he had a point, however rude it was. She was an opponent he didn’t know and certainly didn’t trust that he had found skulking around his racer. The thing he had to trust his life with every single time he went out onto the track.

 

Wouldn’t she be just as distrustful if the situation had been reversed?

 

Rey sighs, she has no clue. But she can’t shake the feeling that he was in some way justified on some level, however minutely.

 

Not for his rudeness though, she thinks firmly. He certainly didn’t have to be so cruel.

 

But if he did have bad history with Resistance and his family then maybe it was deeper than just some cruel vendetta against her as a rookie.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:               62

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:        58

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:                48

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:       32

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                         30

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:              18

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                     18

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                     12

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                               10

Garth Maul - Sith:                                  4

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:        4

Baze Malbus - Force One:                      3

Mace Windu - Jedi:                                 2

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:              1

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                          1

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                            0

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                        0

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:             0

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:            0

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                         0


	4. Barcelona, Spain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> So we have a slight jump ahead, the Baku race has occurred and will be briefly touched on and now we are in España! 
> 
> Alsooo guess who’s an idiot and left a couple of notes-to-self in the finished story last chapter? This gal! It serves me right for posting so late at night when I was too tired to do a final, final, final edit, but hey, at least I learned something, and that’s really just a life lesson right there. Learn from me, y’all!!!
> 
> Anyway, here is a non-1am update that doesn’t have random notes left in it!
> 
> xx 
> 
> Just a schedule reminder in case I gloss over it too quick: briefings and interviews are usually on Thursday, then they have 3 free practice sessions (FP1, FP2, FP3) over Friday and Saturday morning before Qualifiers (in 3 stages, Q1, Q2, Q3) the Saturday afternoon and the Grand Prix race on Sunday.

May 8th

 

Rey stumbles through the main garage at Resistance Racing headquarters, stifling a yawn while she yanks the sleeves of her deep green hoodie over her hands so they resemble cosy crab claws as the last of the morning chill dissipates, promising a warm, sunny day at the factory.

 

The headquarters for the Resistance Racing factory in Indianapolis was originally an old two-story office building, which had been added to over the years with extensions and renovations, yet with barely any mind for how they would blend together. It left an odd mix of shiny, steel centric designs parked alongside the deep, comforting wooden tones that hinted at the history of the building. Somehow it managed to work. The factory now offered a practice track, wind tunnel, three major garages for improvements and repairs as well as a plethora of rooms for strategists, mechanics and engineer crews to meet and discuss upgrades to be made on their X-Wings. Not to mention the publicists and marketing teams, the base offered a home away from home for over 700 personnel, a fact made abundantly clear as Rey makes her way through the bustling corridors at the ungodly hour of 6 am.

 

The factory was busier than normal with all panicked hands on a frenzied deck for the flight to Spain that afternoon, marking the beginning of the European stage of the Championships and a move to the smaller and older Milton Keynes base in England Resistance had. The schedule would allow for the team to return to the U.S. during larger breaks but for the sake of jetlag and the amount of time lost for flights they would mostly remain in Europe until the four-week break in August.

 

Even with all that going on, Rey really did not need to be at the base this early. The warm wooden hallways and cosy design of the old-fashioned part of the main building were simply _inviting_ her to shut her eyes and fall back asleep… unfortunately _someone_ , aka Poe Dameron, had other plans. He had sent a cryptic message last night urging her presence at the base early the next morning, but of course refused to reveal why or what would happen if she simply decided to ignore him and remain in her warm, comfy bed. Rey rarely found time to laze about, either too busy with training or simply unable to when the fretful anxiety would creep in, whispering that she was being far too frivolous and wasteful lounging about, but this morning was a rare occasion she would have taken delight and a bit of pride in simply curling into her comforter and remaining in her small, quiet apartment that she had hesitantly rented nearby after her first pay check from Resistance came through.

 

Her curiosity had won out. Which is why she finds herself stomping past bewildered, desk-bound engineers, cursing ever meeting Poe bloody Dameron as she makes her way to the Hall of Fame room for their deigned meeting.

 

Although, Rey thinks diplomatically, he had been there for her when she was down. Losing in Bahrain and then China four weeks back hadn’t exactly been pleasant when it was in front of the whole world and he had been there to cheer her up. Even the last race in Azerbaijan, which was less than perfect, he had been there for her, despite losing a chance at a podium himself after he got a puncture late in the race, forcing him to retire.

 

The street race through the city of Baku had been a major challenge for many drivers, several failed to finish or went out in collisions due to the tight corners and lack of track space. But Rey had finished 11th and she was determined to see that as a positive despite just missing out on picking up points for Resistance.

 

Still the halls felt warmer as she remembers how Han and the team had stood by her despite her lack of success in the race, in fact Han had almost seemed proud of her after she squealed to a halt at the Resistance pits in her number 19 X-Wing, sweat soaked and exhausted from the stress of the fast-paced track, yet completed and unscathed. Even without a podium for Resistance at Baku Rey couldn’t deny how exhilarating and unpredictable the race had been, and Fett’s surprise win proved how much of a wildcard the race could be.

 

Finishing the race did give her a kick of confidence and the last two-weeks of training in Indianapolis had helped sort out some niggling issues Rey had found with her car, helping her feel _ready_ , something she hadn’t felt in weeks, probably since Melbourne. Han’s words to her in China had reassured her to no end and every day her team proved just how dependable and committed they were to her, leaving Rey feeling more at ease to offer her own opinions to get the best results for her X-Wing.

 

Rey can feel a smile tugging at her face as affection for her team fills her but she fights it, determined to at least make Poe feel a little guilty for forcing her here so early as she turns the twisted, bronze doorknob to open the door to the Hall of Fame.

 

The room is thick and warm, hardwood floor making the long, narrow room feel old and profound. The dust hanging lazily in the air glows with the first rays of the sun giving the room a golden tone, surrounding the constant tenants in gleaming auras.

 

There is a small group of people milling further back in the long narrow room but Rey ignores the need to rush to them, instead walking slowly forward, seemingly watching its occupants age backwards as she goes.

 

The closest car to the door shares the most resemblance to Rey’s own X-Wing, the orange design really only a few years old and just a bit cruder, the cockpit slightly rounder and higher than her own. She continues on past more cars, noting the ones that stand out to her. There’s the car Han won his final Championship in in 1994, a couple of years before he retired from driving. There’s the even more rounded cockpit of the X-Wing that Ackbar won the first ever Resistance Championship in in 1988.

 

The very first Resistance design X-Wing from 1979, the year they stepped out on their own after splitting from Rebellion sits second to last in the line up, the faded orange colour and boxy, sharp-nosed design was nearly laughable compared to modern designs but it was a part of their history and demanded a nostalgic respect without trying.

 

The final car was blank, exposed grey steel without any colours or names to it and the oldest of them all. It more resembled a large, rounded torpedo with wheels rather than an F1 and was from before Resistance or Rebellion, or even Jedi or Sith, the oldest teams in the Championships, existed. It was a reminder that despite the competition there had always been the dream to simply race. To find the limit and push beyond all expectations. Sometimes Rey would find herself just looking at the car, imagining the thoughts and hopes behind every placement of bolts and metal that would start it all.

 

However to Rey’s surprise there’s another car after the old F1, a much smaller design that fails to suit the room in _any_ possible way.

 

A bright pink, miniature jeep with the word _Barbie_ printed on the side in purple.

 

Rey sidles up next to Finn who is chatting happily to Kaydel, tossing him a quizzical look as Mr. Threepio notes her presence.

 

“Oh hello, young Rey! It is lovely to see you although I do question the hour, I say, I can’t quite figure out why-“

 

Poe finally breaks his conversation with Leia off after hearing Threepio’s exclamation and cuts right in loudly.

 

“Welcome, welcome one and all!”

 

He stands like an announcer looking extremely proud of himself.

 

“I have gathered you all here today for the annual Race de Poe in honour of my birthday.”

 

“Ah, so this is what you warned me about when you mentioned Poe gets really into his birthday,” Rey stage whispers to Finn.

 

Poe narrows his eyes at her.

 

“Happy birthday, Poe!” Rey says quickly with a cheeky grin and he lets her off the hook, continuing exuberantly.

 

“This year’s race will involve these high quality works of art,” he gestures to the child’s electric jeep. “Specially modified for optimal speeds around a track of my own design. Oh and just so you’re all aware, due to the flights rudely interrupting my birthday festivities this year, we shall be continuing celebrations throughout the whole weekend as recompense.

 

“Now there’ll be two from each department representing their teams,” Poe continues. “Rey and myself, obviously, Kaydel and Finn, Chewie and Rose, Han and Mr. Threepio, and Paige and Korrie.

 

Han and Chewie are notably absent from the room, although the rest of the involuntary competitors look at Poe with amused scepticism.

 

“What?! Han and Chewie will race, they’ll do it for me.” A few more disbelieving eyebrows are raised and Poe seems to concede, throwing his hands open, as though coming clean.

 

“Fiine. Leia’s gonna make them.”

 

“Damn right,” Leia adds with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

 

“Right, everyone follow me!” Poe hollers as he grabs up the pink jeep and heads towards the back door that leads to the fire escape and down to the grassy plain between the track and the main building.

 

Rey hurries forwards to catch Poe, passing a grumpy and tired looking Rose, as he barrels down the steps and can hear Mr. Threepio’s stressed voice fretting to Korr Sella, one of Resistance’s engineers under Paige, unlike Paige however Korrie rarely doubles as a mechanic.

 

“Oh, I really don’t think this is an adequate use of my time! There’s still so much to do! We still have to make sure the schedule is up to date and that we have transport once we land i-”

 

“Can it, Threepio!” Poe hollers and Rey has to try not to laugh as she hears a very posh “Well! I have never been treated in such a way! I say...” as he continues to titter on in spite of Poe.

 

“You know,” Rey begins in a light undertone to Poe. “I’m sure there are easier ways to spend time with a certain someone than doing this whole ruse.”

 

Poe looks at her with feigned ignorance.

 

“Darling, I don’t know _what_ you’re trying to say.”

 

“I’m saying that this is some cheap ploy to spend more down time with Finn.” Rey states bluntly as they take the final stairs to the dewy ground now far ahead of the tired zombie like group behind them.

 

Rey would be the first to admit that she had been a little oblivious before, distracted by her own fears and doubts however she certainly wasn’t encumbered now. Ever since their evening hanging out in Poe’s room after the Chinese GP she had noticed subtle glances and some definite mooning from both sides on more than one occasion.

 

“Cheap ploy?” Comes Poe’s mock outrage. “I’m insulted, I don’t do cheap ploys, only magnificently colossal ploys here, sweetheart.”

 

Rey rolls her eyes.

 

“You could just ask him to dinner,” she offers realistically.

 

“And risk destabilising the game conditions for the Race de Poe?” He deflects. “Hard pass.”

 

“Uh-huh, sure thing.”

 

“Anyway, we should be strategizing,” Poe says, changing tact. “Alright, our master plan for the race is go as fast as we can, got it?”

 

“I dunno, we might have to go over it a few more times,” Rey replies sarcastically.

 

“I remember when you used to be so nice and sweet,” Poe returns sadly.

 

“Oi, the only reason I’m not going to punch you is because it’s your birthday, got it?”

 

“Yep, got it,” Poe says casually as they reach a clearly marked mini-race track on the grass, a large number of cans from one of their sponsors, Blue Energy Drinks, are dotted in pyramid formation around the course, while 9 other _Barbie_ jeeps in various colours of pink and purple are lined up at the start.

 

He turns to the rest of the slowly ambling group, clapping his hands together.

 

“Everyone ready?!”

 

Everyone was not ready. They all grudgingly begin to fit themselves somewhat comfortably into their ‘vehicles’ just as Leia approaches from the ground floor, a resentful yet silent Han and Chewie in tow.

 

Finn and Rey exchange a stupefied glance from their squashed positions. Leia somehow did the impossible without dislodging a single hair from her impeccable up-do.

 

Rey didn’t think it could happen, yet her respect and awe of the American senator increases.

 

With everyone now present and as settled as possible, Chewie has to sit over the top of his cart, too big to even get a foot in, Poe quickly goes over the rules for the race.

 

“Okay so you have to get from the start to the finish of the course _however_ if you knock over any drink stacks you get 5 seconds added to your time, got it?”

 

Most of the group actually seems to have come around to the competition, eyeing each other up now that they are in their cars, lined up and ready, except Han who barks out a gruff ‘get on with it, kid’. Poe nods at Leia who presses a button on her phone and Eye of the Tiger blasts across the concealed speakers.

 

Everyone except for Poe and Leia groan in exasperation.

 

“Ready,” says Leia, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Set. Go!”

 

* * *

 

After a particularly brutal race with many questionable tactics in play (including Han simply jumping off his _Barbie_ jeep and pushing it, kicking mounds of drink stacks over with his feet, which soon got him red-carded by Leia, and Chewie ending up being too heavy to allow the electric power to work, eventually pushing it over in frustration) Poe wins his own race with a dubious tactic of his own; mostly ripping off his shirt in an attempt to distract the rest of the competition from their objective.

 

It was a good sight, but not very effective unless you happened to be Finn, who went barrelling straight into a stack of energy drinks.

 

Leia releases party poppers as Poe thunders across the makeshift finish line, looking precariously unbalanced on the rickety mini jeep.

 

Rey eventually trundles over the finish line behind Rose, hair mussed out of her buns, grass stains on her blue jeans and dirt smearing her face after a particularly nasty run in with Mr. Threepio, and who had gotten in her way with his careful driving technique and still managed to come out of the clash unsullied, fading golden hair remaining pristine in his overly-dignified quiff.

 

“Are you sure you’re turning 32 and not 6?” Rose asks Poe shrewdly as he continues to celebrate with loud whoops and jumps.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh,” Kaydel groans in bliss, the bright Spanish sun searing down on them as they lay out on the beach listening to the waves crash against the shore.

 

“This is actually the life. Why can’t I always be at the beach with a drink in my hand?” She asks taking a sip from the fancy pink and orange cocktail acquired from the beach bar nearby, getting a waiter to bring them all the same.

 

Rey couldn’t help but agree with her statement as she soaks up the sun next to her, Finn on her other side as Poe lies stretched out next to Kaydel. Rose and Paige had been unable to join them after landing in Barcelona, the cars demanding attention due to the long trip, which had Rey missing them, especially after finding that the beach had to be one of her favourite places ever.

 

There certainly wasn’t much of a chance to get there in England so she’d just _have_ to make up for lost time from now on, she promises herself mentally.

 

The 12-hour transit covering two flights to Spain had been hellish and left Rey exhausted from the night flight thanks to her inability to sleep on planes and a particularly loud child.

 

Poe hadn’t seemed at all deterred from his grand birthday plans, fully intending to essentially kidnap Rey and Finn if necessary to get them out to see the nightlife. Only a very logical talk from Han’s assistant, Greer, including a firm ‘don’t even try it’ expression that she definitely picked up from Han, had placated him to more laidback ideas for his pre-race celebrations. Finn and Rey marvelled at the sight of la Sagrada Familia before consuming an incredible amount of tapas for lunch on las Ramblas, the main avenue where performers and street restaurants were set up. Rey accidentally ordered what she thought would be a small glass of sangria at Poe’s insistence, which tuned out to be larger than her head. All the while Poe laughed at her horrified expression as he downed his third drink; happily letting her know it was the smallest they offered.

 

To Rey excitement they spent a couple of hours walking around the streets, looking at stalls as they slowly made their way to the beach, and she bought Poe a comically touristy ‘I Heart Barcelona’ t-shirt and matching hat for his present. Until Resistance picked her up she’d never really been out of Northampton, let alone the country and her pariah status in the village left her social life more than a little wanting. Being here, the sounds of people calling out and chatting as they milled along the smooth path in the dappled shade of the large trees spaced about the avenue felt like a momentous experience. Like she was in someone else’s life, not her own. But here she was and no one was about to take it from her.

 

Their way to the beach was made even slower still because every few minutes someone would stop them in the street and ask Poe for an autograph. Certainly nothing could stop Rey’s smile when a father and his daughter turned to her after Poe had finished signing asking her for one too.

 

With everyone so at ease at the beach it wasn’t difficult to follow suit and strip down to her simple black bikini Rose had helped her pick out in the U.S. as Poe and Finn splashed her in the shallows, threatening to throw her in the deep as she fought back just as dirty. Poe had eventually picked her up and dunked her in the water, after she had taken too long to get fully submerged in the Mediterranean. Although he had been kind enough to stay with her and not take her too deep, knowing she wasn’t very experienced swimmer after a barbecue at Han and Leia’s last month.

 

Now drying off in the warm sun, Rey didn’t think anything could possibly beat this feeling, salt and sand clinging to her, full of food and happiness with her friends on a Barcelona beach. She can feel the jetlag beginning to creep up as she breathes into the sounds of the crashing waves on the shore and shouts of families and tourists enjoying their time together as vendors sell their wares on the paved ground just beyond the sand.

 

Yet as she listens there’s a sound that doesn’t quite fit. A metallic fluttering that becomes more pronounced as her mind registers its discordance with the environment.

 

She sits up, removing her sunglasses to get a better look as she hunts for the origin of the sound, yet Finn’s already focused on something in the distance.

 

“Aaand that’s our cue to leave,” he says blandly.

 

Rey looks to where his focus is, a small group of people are crowded on the rocks not at all dressed for the beach, camera bags and straps flung around their necks, while their faces are obscured by large cameras that whirl and snap away in their direction.

 

Rey looks away quickly, her stomach sinking a little as she reaches for her cotton blue shirt and the snaps only become more frenzied as their little group begins to stir.

 

Poe and Kaydel glance around lazily, not appearing too perturbed by the unwelcome guests, but they listen to Finn and begin to get ready to leave as well.

 

An uncomfortable feeling settles over Rey however. She’s not unaccustomed to reporters and paparazzi at the airport ready to capture them as they land in the country they’ll race in, she’s never completely at ease with it but it hasn’t ever made her feel unnerved like this before.

 

Although, Rey thinks rationally, she hadn’t ever really been out and about like they were now before a race weekend. When they showed up at the airport and the track it was expected and could be managed but now was meant to be her own time. A memory of Greer trying to prep her for this kind of attention before the season began tugs at her mind, although she had foolishly thought she’d seen the worst of it already and could handle it.

 

“Come on, Peanut, let’s go.”

 

Rey stands and immediately regrets letting Kaydel get her a third massive drink as her head thumps a bit. Luckily a cool breeze passes by, soothing it slightly, as the evening begins its slow encroach on the sunny afternoon, a few clouds peppering the otherwise clear blue sky in the distance.

 

“Make sure they get your good side,” Poe calls back to them from ahead, he had a few more drinks than anyone else, claiming his birthday excuse and it was beginning to show.

 

Rey stifles a grin at him as he poses for a camera seductively ahead of her and Finn and refuses to allow the incessant clicking to make her feel self-conscious, even if it doesn’t fully stop the discomfort at being watched and scrutinised.

 

* * *

 

“Morning!” Poe hollers at her when he meets her outside the briefing room.

 

Rey cringes, the sound so harsh on her sensitive eardrums.

 

“Could you not?” She asks weakly.

 

Poe looks at her with amusement.

 

“Ooh feeling it bad are you?” He positively sings at her.

 

Rey narrows her eyes at him.

 

“How are you so okay, you had so much more than I did??”

 

“Superior body I guess.”

 

Rey makes a face at him, cursing her low tolerance for alcohol as Poe smirks back at her.

 

“Did you drink any water?”

 

Rey’s silent, she had flopped into bed as soon as they got back to their rooms in the hotel sleeping straight through until 7am when her alarm blared out, letting her come back to reality. A reality which turned out to be a parched mouth and a gigantic headache thumping at the creases of her mind.

 

Her silence is enough for Poe.

 

“Well there’s your number one mistake, we were out in that sun all day and you’re not exactly built to handle much alcohol,” he continues giving her an assessing look. “Oh come on, darling, briefing and then you can get back to regretting your life choices.”

 

“I am never drinking with you again.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Poe replies nonchalantly, striding through the door and weaving past chairs to get to a pair of in the middle of the room.

 

Majority of the drivers are already there, lazing about as they wait for everyone to show up and the meeting to begin. Rey spots Ren somehow managing to lounge in his chair in the most tense position possible at the back of the room, arms folded against his chest, moodily looking away from any other room occupant. She pointedly ignores him. Settling next to Poe.

 

The last of the drivers arrive and Lando Calrissian, the CEO of Formula One, strides past, quieting the loud chattering in the room with an easy wave of his hand.

 

“Alright, how’s everyone doing today?”

 

Some of the drivers nod in acknowledgement.

 

“Dunno if Rey’s feeling so great,” Poe offers loudly. “Maybe talk softer for her, Lando.”

 

Rey punches Poe’s arm hard and there are chuckles from their fellow drivers as Andor turns in his seat towards them, smirking.

 

“Big night was it?”

 

Rey blushes furiously at the attention, sinking as low in her seat as possible hoping there might be a cataclysmic earthquake to open up the ground beneath her.

 

“No,” she replies defensively. “Just small drinks turn out to be massive here.”

 

He laughs at her.

 

“Ah _that_ is what you would call a rookie mistake.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry, Sunshine,” Lando confidently drawls, oozing charisma in every word. “We all know Poe’s a bad influence.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more offended, Lando.”

 

“Alight alright, Precious, time to get down to business. Have we got any comments about the Baku GP? Anything to discuss?”

 

A hand is raised and Calrissian nods at Ithano.

 

“Go ahead, Sideon.”

 

“Will the stewards be reviewing their decision for the Turn 3 collision?”

 

The lightness in the room disappears quicker than an F1 with fresh tyres when the Kanata driver brings up the first lap incident from Baku, where Ren went into him, ending Ithano’s race while Kylo managed to keep going to finish 5th.

 

“They came to a decision-.” Lando doesn’t even finish his sentence before a deep voice cuts in as sharp as a razor.

 

“If you didn’t come here to race then perhaps you should go home,” Kylo bites out coldly. “Collisions happen; you should know that by now.”

 

“You drove right into me,” the large Scotsman replies angrily, his voice raising, as his ruddy face colours a deeper red before he turns his attention back to Lando. “He should’ve been penalised for driver fault, nae get away with a racing incident.”

 

Rey stiffens, hearing the tension in his voice and volume, starting to get louder.

 

Lando raises his hands trying to calm the two men.

 

“Look, look, gentlemen, I think we sho-.”

 

“How about you get penalised for every time your half-assed driving ruined someone’s race, you got in _my_ way, not my problem.”

 

“I’ve been driving since your wee ass was in diapers, mate.”

 

“Then perhaps it’s time you stopped. And I’m not your mate.”

 

“Nah you’re a dickhead, is what you are.”

 

Rey tenses, firmly looking down at the ground as she tries to swallow her anxiety away and prepare mentally for the full on shouting to come.

 

But it doesn’t come.

 

She glances towards Kylo, trying to be discreet only to find his dark angry gaze already locked on her, across the room. Not even a second after she meets his stare his eyes slide away towards the front, mouth working furiously as he clearly tries to contain his verbal assault.

 

“Yes I am,” is all he replies with, the finality in his tone hanging uncomfortably as the room is silent again.

 

Calrissian clears his throat awkwardly.

 

“Alright well, Kylo, Sideon, the decision the stewards came to is final, it was considered unavoidable due to the space given, it’s just unfortunate you were out of the race because of it, Sideon.”

 

Ithano shakes his head in disgust but stays silent, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Lando claps his hands together and the room seems to release some tension as the two men remain fuming but silent.

 

“Alright well if that’s all for Baku?” He waits a moment and no one speaks he continues. “Great, let’s get into the Catalunya circuit.”

 

Lando begins discussing the layout of the track, taking care to explain the issues around the Turn 2 bollards that always seem to trip drivers up but Rey is only half listening, attempting discreet glances back at Kylo every second sentence.

 

What the hell was with the stare down? Was he still pissed off about their confrontation in China? She hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to him since but part of her wasn’t sure if she even wanted to. What if he just started yelling at her? And what about his 'yes I am'? Did he truly believe it or was it just some line to win the argument?

 

Rey has to force herself to stop obsessing over her confusion surrounding the First Order driver.

 

In any case she fidgets through the rest of the briefing feeling distinctly bewildered and uncertain as she tries to put all and any conflicting thoughts of Ren out of her mind.

 

* * *

 

Seeing Dameron saunter onto the panel and sit in the middle, between him and Andor never fails to boil his blood, no matter how many times he went through the process of interviews and podiums with the man.

 

As the MC opens up questions to the prying, blood-sucking minds seated in front of them, a blond woman from Racing Digest raises her hand and is chosen.

 

She simpers at Dameron.

 

“Just to start off, happy birthday for the other day Poe. How are you feeling about Resistance’s chances here after Baku?”

 

Kylo feels his eyes roll in disgust as Dameron grins back roguishly at the question.

 

“Thank you, well to start off Baku is always unpredictable but going into Spain, it’s a circuit we all know well thanks to winter testing, so we’re all on more even ground.”

 

He shrugs nonchalantly before continuing.

 

“Even though our last race wasn’t so great I think this year overall we are showing a lot of promise although it hasn’t quite translated into the points. Last year was fairly decent however we had a few mechanical issues that held us back but now we seem to be more competitive and Rey’s also getting more experience on the different tracks so I think we have a good deal of potential for this as a team to take out the Championship or at least the Constructor’s Trophy.”

 

Kylo holds back a snort. Dameron was good at saying things the public would eat up. He put so much emphasis on teamwork but in the end what did it matter? He still drove for himself.

 

Maybe he was simply dense and honestly didn’t realise how Resistance favoured him as their first choice in driver. It wasn’t as if he could claim to really know the man, they had met a few times while practicing at Resistance but he soon realised how they would continuously put Dameron’s training first, and how they forced him to hold back and let Poe excel in those sessions, as if preparing him for a life of second place.

 

After he left, well there was no point in having to make awkward attempts at getting to know the other man, no need to pretend winning wasn’t the most important thing. Besides it was enough to see how arrogant and fortuitous he was in every aspect of life, from skill to a charm that made practically everyone fall over their feet to please him.

 

Another journalist speaks up, distracting Kylo from his thoughts.

 

“Do you think there will be rain? What do you think of the effect it could have?”

 

It’s a general question for the panel so the MC directs Kylo to answer first, as he sits on the far left.

 

“There shouldn’t be any rain until after the race according to the radar,” he says without any preamble.

 

The reporters always seem to allow an empty silence after he answers, in an effort to make him feel awkward enough to fill it with more unnecessary words but he’s never been inclined to fall for it, he doesn’t have that charm like the others do, but he also won’t be shooting himself in the leg because of it.

 

“Well hopefully we can have some to mix it up a bit,” Andor replies after a awkward break, clearly not as immune to the tactic and he and Dameron take over answering as a few more specific questions are asked about new modifications for the Catalunya race.

 

A mousy, balding man stands, consulting his notepad as he begins his question.

 

“Now we’ve heard a bit about contracts the last two weeks, Kylo, you still haven’t signed for First Order for next year. Any news on that front? Any chance we might see you in different colours next year.”

 

No, Kylo thinks harshly, but it wouldn’t do to piss Snoke off and reveal too much. He’d be in the black and red of First Order again next year, and the year after that and the ones after that too. His contract was already decided but Snoke did enjoy dangling the tantalising question in front of the public every year just to watch them get into a frenzy.

 

“The contract is still in discussion,” he states stiffly, despising how the lie tastes.

 

The reporter moves on to Poe sitting in the middle.

 

“We, of course, have heard about your contract, signing for another two years with Resistance, do you see your long term future with the team? Any chance of ever changing it up?”

 

“To be honest, I really don’t think I could leave my car and I’m really happy with the team and the improvements we’ve made so I think I want to see it through with these guys.”

 

“Considering Kylo hasn’t yet signed his new contract with First Order, would you welcome him to Resistance at all next year?”

 

Kylo bristles at the presumption of the question. There’s an awkward silence as Poe struggles to get his usual charm working again.

 

“Well, uh, he hasn’t asked me, I’d say no, because Rey’s contract is going through this week for a place on the team next year and it seems that First Order are fairly confident he’ll still want to drive for them.”

 

The reporter turns back towards him but before he has a chance to get his next predictable question out Kylo cuts him off.

 

“I want to drive the best cars in Formula 1,” he bites out. “The best and fastest, it would be nonsensical to change to a team with a poorer quality car and less interest in racing rather than keeping team orders.”

 

Well. Snoke will definitely be pissed now. But there’s no way in _hell_ he would race for Resistance again.

 

Sometimes he wonders how no one made the connection between himself and his training with Resistance as Ben Solo but Snoke had done a good job at eradicating any links and hiding the truth. He wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people he had met on his way through the junior league had much fuller pockets after a conversation with one of Snoke’s lackeys. It helped that there wasn’t a great deal of public interest in the juniors and he’d kept a low profile after his parents stopped parading him about for his mother’s political purposes when he was a young child. Besides, up until he broke with Resistance he had never been on the market for selection. Of course Snoke had never seen it that way.

 

The reporters fall silent and scribble furiously. Kylo sits rigidly but can see Poe looking at him furiously out of the corner of his eye.

 

“And I guess First Order doesn’t have racing orders,” he retorts.

 

Kylo ignores him. It’s how First Order operates, everyone knows that. Phasma is told to stand aside at times if she’s going to destabilise his race because he has the best chance at winning and as long as he’s number one then what does it matter? At least they’re upfront about it.

 

Sure he can recognise the hypocrisy. He’ll never win a sainthood, but he’s never pretended to be anything close to perfect. Unlike Resistance who seem to ooze superiority with a false façade of teamwork when in reality they’re no better than anyone else in this sport.

 

“And how do you feel about that comment, Poe? Do you think that Resistance favours you as a driver?”

 

“No,” he hears Dameron reply defensively. “I think it’s part of racing sometimes but we’re a team and the discussion is always that we can race if we choose to. Rey is definitely a contender and has a great deal of talent so I’m sure we’ll see her challenging me and I’m sure everyone else in the near future.”

 

Dameron oddly directs the last part towards Kylo and a curious feeling prickles at his spine, but he ignores it. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, he knows the truth first hand.

 

Another reporter raises his hand.

 

“Any wishes for this race?” He directs to them all.

 

The MC directs him to answer first.

 

“To go faster,” Kylo replies shortly.

 

There’s that awkward silence again.

 

“Can you elaborate at all?”

 

“No,” he says simply and Andor quickly begins his answer.

 

* * *

 

Sunday May 12th – Spanish Grand Prix

 

The clouds that had begun to roll in on Wednesday are now settled and unmoving, blanketing the sky in a cloth of grey as the rain continues to threaten them as it did all of qualifiers. Despite that, the Friday practice rounds and Saturday qualifiers passed by with no major upsets, although she had lost the rear grip of her X-Wing and spun out on to the gravel on Turn 4 in FP1 but she didn’t feel so bad about it when she realised her racer was fine. Watching Ren and Fett, as well as Bodhi Rook, who sustained a fair bit of damage, make the same mistake at that corner helped her feel even less bothered by the spin. During FP3 on Saturday, just hours before qualifying, Dravitz made a similar error at higher speeds sending him slamming into the barrier before his red and white F1 crumbled into pieces as the crane attempted to move it away. That was a hard sight to endure even without being on the Rebellion team, made even harsher by his lack of opportunity to then qualify, meaning Dravitz would have to start at P20 on the grid on Sunday.

 

Rey makes it through to Q2 but _just_ gets pushed out of Qualifying for Q3 as Garth Maul from Sith beats her time in the closing seconds of the session by 0.14 of a second. Resistance was performing well but the other teams seemed to have brought their A game to the Circuit de Barcelona just as much, everyone feeling just that slight bit more confident due to the familiarity.

 

She finds herself starting from 11th on the grid, the same position she finished in in Baku but with more determination than she remembers feeling in a while. First Order manage to claim both first and second place in the grid and they rev their engines, the dark Silencers acting as haunting gargoyles keeping hold of the rest of the competition. Andor and Poe sit in the second row, P3 and 4 respectively, with Fett, Rook, Ahsoka, Sideon, Chirrut, Maul filling out the rest of the top ten before Rey.

 

Everyone watches the lights intently revving their engines as they wait. The red lights blink out from view and the cars take off, roaring away from the grid as they hustle to push through the pack.

 

First Order corral the herd, keeping hold of the lead in their glossy black racers as they stake their claim on top positions, while Rey has to swerve out of the line of a clamouring Windu who slips past her into 11th, seemingly determined to turn around Jedi’s average start to the Championships.

 

The group race down the straight towards Turn 1, everyone slamming on their breaks one after the other as the sharp right corner demands, thinning out the pack slightly as Rey sees Maul and Windu begin to fall into an untidy line.

 

The pack stays in relative formation as Turn 2 immediately descends upon them zooming past and picking up speed as they prepare for the more relaxed curve of Turn 3.

 

Rey’s eyeing off Windu’s position thinking just maybe she can exploit his focus on Maul if she can keep up by Turn 4 when suddenly the back end of Rook’s green Rogue car up in 6th place oversteers, sending half the car sliding out partly onto the gravel in a massive plume of erupting white smoke as his tyres lock up. The F1 swings back onto the track in a pendulum movement, directly in the way of the oncoming racers and right into what Rey thinks might be a Kanata car in an explosion of debris when suddenly the smoke descends, obscuring her vision as she plunges right into it, unable to do anything but follow the curve and hope she gets through it in one piece.

 

Pieces of debris fly through the smoke, past Rey’s field of vision and her car judders as it barrels directly over foreign objects underneath but she punches through into clean air and finds her X-Wing still running with four wheels. A quick glance in her rear view mirror tells her others weren’t as lucky, a stray wheel off one car sailing out of the fog and bouncing across the track and out of sight.

 

Rey releases a breath she didn’t even have time to realise she was holding as she prepares for Turn 4 and tries to take stock of her new situation.

 

“Rey, you alright?” Finn’s voice crackles across the comm.

 

“All good,” she replies quickly, seeing Maul ahead of her but no sign of Windu. “What happened? Everyone okay?”

 

“Looks like it, they’re all getting out and walking away now. Rook span into Ithano and Malbus went into them both, they’re all out of the race, Safety Car is coming in now.”

 

“Where’s Windu,” Rey asks, refocusing on her competition with the news that her competitors are all safe as she wrenches around Turn 5 and begins to close in on Maul while the Safety Car speed limit bunches them up.

 

“He fell back three places to 14th, you’re clear of him for a bit.”

 

“Good,” Rey grunts as she zooms past Turn 6 and around the sharp left of 7.

 

Another voice crackles onto the link.

 

“How’s the car feeling, kid?” Han’s gruff voice asks. “ Any damage?”

 

“Not that I can feel,” she returns. “How are my tyres looking?”

 

“Stats coming back say they’re all going good.”

 

“Do I need to come into pit?”

 

“It’s your call, kid, you’re the driver.”

 

Rey thinks for a moment, any damage that could be undetected from her trip over all the debris might cause her trouble into the further into the race, yet going into pit so early would sabotage her strategy for a one stop race over the long 66 Laps and could very well be unnecessary, even if she’ll lose less time with the Safety Car in play. She wracks her mind for the right choice, but of course, there’s only really one.

 

“I’ll keep going, the car feels fine to me, I think we got through unscathed.”

 

“Alright, be careful, kid, and if you feel anything wrong, call in.”

 

“Will do,” Rey replies, a small grin appearing on her hidden face as she revels in Han’s trust in her and gets right in Maul’s slip stream as they play follow the leader coming out of Turn 9 and onto the long straight.

 

She settles in for the wait, certain she’ll prove to Maul just how fast her X-Wing is as soon as the Safety Car disappears.

 

* * *

 

The first part of the race had been uneventful for Kylo, the big crash in Lap 1 hadn’t impacted him in anyway except for the Safety Car that blocked his advance and kept Phasma and the rest of the line-up at his heels for 7 laps when all he wanted to do was power away from them all. An odd feeling of relief spikes through him when he registers that no orange car is among the broken piles of F1s, but he forces it away, telling himself he should be disappointed that one of the Resistance cars isn’t out of the race.

 

When most of the debris from the crash is removed and the Safety Car finally withdraws in Lap 7, Kylo advances his lead as much as possible.

 

For awhile it’s enough. He punches through the corners rounding them and slamming down the straights of the circuit as Phasma falls behind and is overtaken by Andor.

 

That’s where things first start to go wrong.

 

Rogue One surprises the other drivers by going fast. Very fast. Their pace is unmatched by any other team, lighting up the board as the race continues and Andor begins to methodically break down the gap between his car and Kylo’s.

 

And First Order don’t react.

 

Maybe it’s their arrogant belief that they have the fastest car for this track that gets them, but Andor keeps advancing, before plunging into the pits early on Lap 19 falling back into 5th behind Fett yet using his pace to quickly gain on and overtake those in his path.

 

And still First Order don’t react. Still intent on their one-stop strategy for the long race.

 

“How much of a gap between Andor now?” Kylo seethes down the line on Lap 34, feeling as though too much of the conversation is happening off the comm, subsequently leaving him ignorant of where the threat currently is.

 

“He just moved up to second place again,” comes Hux’s crisp reply. “Still clocking at 31.36 seconds behind your Silencer.”

 

Kylo sets his mouth. He can feel the tension creeping up on him. 30 seconds between himself and Andor may sound like a godsend but he’s yet to pit and his strategists still have him set on Plan A; pitting around Lap 40 or after if his tyres allow in order to smash out the final 26 laps at high speeds. A 25 second gap is what he needs for a solid pit stop to get back out in front of Andor.

 

“Do I need to pit earlier?” He bites out down the line.

 

“Still negative,” Hux replies snidely. “Continue with Plan A, increase pace.”

 

Kylo only just holds back from smashing a fist through his steering wheel, a familiar rage tacking hold.

 

“There is no more power!” He yells furiously down the line instead. “I’m using everything it’s got!”

 

“Listen, Ren,” Hux’s begins as though to chide a troublemaking child but then the comm fizzles out.

 

A few moments later another voice fills the line.

 

“Ren,” Snoke’s icy voice filters through. “Plans are changing. Pit next lap and we’ll see if this race is salvageable.”

 

The part of Kylo that rejoices in the knowledge that Hux will be getting a severe and systematic dressing down from their manager is dampened by Snoke’s clear anger at him also. His Silencer isn’t the quickest on the track and no one’s quite sure why today. Their main threat should only be Resistance in speed and power even if their cars can be… unreliable to say the least. Rogue hadn’t shown much of a threat until today in comparison, the modifications made in the two-week break must have made a difference somehow.

 

“Time gap, check in,” he yells down the line, rounding Turn 1 just before the pit lane entry.

 

“29.93,” comes Hux’s subdued reply.

 

Apprehension fills him. Andor’s cleaned off a bit more and is putting First Order on notice. He flies into the pit lane, slamming on the breaks to get down to speed to avoid being penalised by the stewards.

 

The black clad mechanics are standing around but there’s one waving frantically towards someone in the First Order garage and only the front two groups are crouched with wheels at the ready.

 

What the hell?!

 

“Where are the back wheels?” He yells into the comm. The link clicks on in response but no one speaks down the line, there’s only background noises clamouring through the comm and confused, frantic yells in the background of ‘hurry, hurry!’.

 

There’s nothing he can do but wait, Kylo breaks into place and the mechanic at the front jacks his car as the two front wheels are drilled loudly into place.

 

His mirrors fill with mechanics running into place, wheel covers being ripped off as they finally get them prepped and into position, drilling them on rapidly. As soon as Kylo slams back onto the ground he takes off, barely caring if the jack operator gets out of the way and speeds as fast as allowed towards the pit exit. Reaching the track, he slams down on the gas pedal and pushes forward. Andor’s green and black car coming around the bend surging to get ahead. It screams past and Kylo has to slide into place behind Poe, losing two positions he pushed so hard to keep and letting out a yell of pure fury only contained by his helmet.

 

* * *

 

Rey managed a nifty overtake of Maul on Lap 11 and steadily made her way through the midfield pack until she had Fett and Phasma in her sights in fourth and fifth respectively by Lap 39.

 

On Lap 47 Phasma seems to lose all drive and Rey powers past her easily, seeing her car smoking off to the side of the track when she rounds the circuit again. She turns her attention to Fett, who seems to be pulling away, while she can practically feel Chirrut creeping up behind her.

 

He closes in on her on Turn 1 of Lap 50 as he slides to the right to overtake and crosses back when she reacts by moving to the right also, moving up beside her.

 

Rey holds her breath and punches forward, going wheel-to-wheel with him as they wrangle their way through the corners but she manages to stave him off and once she’s clawed back enough of a gap she begins her close in on Fett.

 

Rey lefts out her held breath huffing in relief and exhilaration as she closes in on Fett.

 

It’s another four laps until she’s in his slipstream, haunting his mirrors as she makes her advance. As they pass the final corner and throttle down the straight, she can see Kylo’s Silencer further ahead of the blue and grey Fett Racer and suddenly an image of her overtaking him and stepping up to join Poe on the podium fills her mind. She shakes herself out of her mirage before it distracts her from this opportunity in front of her.

 

The straight gives her the perfect position, she’s close enough that she can press forward, slipping out of Fett’s slipstream and sidling up next to him as they approach Turn 1 and powering past him. Rey nearly shouts in triumph as she takes 4th position but just as quickly Fett pushes forward and he’s right next to her again, then ahead. He clearly has ideas about making it back-to-back victories despite the rapidly dwindling laps available.

 

But Rey has the inside lane entering Turn 2 and fully exploits it, taking a risk as she slices past Fett just as they pass the apex of the corner and barrelling forward claiming her hold on 4th as they take Turn 3 and pushing to create a slight gap.

 

She looks ahead again. Just in time to see Kylo’s black and red F1 slip past Poe on the track and pull ahead. Disappointment fills her but she pushes forward nonetheless hoping beyond hope that the last 10 laps can yield a miracle for Resistance with a double spot on the podium as a present to Poe.

 

It’s not to be though, as the drivers barrel on, each trying so hard to gain ground but only managing to maintain their formation as they dart beneath the gantry to end the race. Rey stands below the podium looking up as Poe sprays champagne over himself in 3rd place. She can’t help the delight she feels even if she did miss out on a podium. She’s secured 12 points for Resistance, her first points since Melbourne and she completed the race strongly against others far more familiar with the track. Not even any confusion surrounding the second place, black-clad, First Order racer, who seems to be pointedly avoiding looking in Resistance’s direction can stop the feeling of joy that streams though her. The podium glints as the sun pokes through the clouds and the crowd cheers, the Spanish fans yelling loudly in happiness for the Mexican winner and suddenly it all feels so tantalisingly close and accessible, like anything really could be possible for her and a solid determination seems to fill her with resolve.

 

* * *

Poe doesn’t let the lack of a Resistance win at Barcelona impact his birthday celebrations for even a second, with immediate talk about the places he wants to show them now that they’re free of racing limitations as soon as he descends from the podium. The repeated replays of the first lap crash makes Rey’s heart go out to Bodhi, Sideon and Baze, seeing their listless figures standing around the track after the incident, dumbfounded at not even making Turn 4 because of a collision which could have easily been much worse. She and Poe offer their condolences when they cross paths afterwards, as well as an offer to blow off some steam with an invite to Poe’s celebrations. That at least brings a roguish grin to Sideon’s face, the large Scotsman loudly bragging they’ll have a hard time keeping up with him.

 

First, however, Poe and Rey are required to sit through a dinner with visiting representatives from Kessel Motoring Oil that Greer had set up. They manage their way through polite small talk, Rey more than once relying on Poe’s charisma to get them through any potentially awkward moments, and the factors at play during the race, Rey finds herself holding her own in that conversation, until Han gives them a discreet nod to ‘turn in for the night’ and they make their escape, meeting Finn, Rose, Kaydel and Paige to go straight to Poe’s favourite club in Barcelona, the Razzmatazz.

 

They meet some other drivers that they had encountered before leaving the track earlier. Ezra Bridger is there, the young Canadian driver is one Rey finds herself getting along with naturally, he’d been very nice even after she ended his race in China and their shared adoration of Ahsoka Tano helped them bond easily. His own team mate however, Dravitz wasn’t there, apparently telling Ezra that he was well over the age to party after long haul races.

 

Fett and Aurra Sing make an appearance, the brash, funny New Zealander making a decent but failed attempt to outdrink Sideon, who proceeds to take on Bodhi and Baze, while Chittut and Ahsoka watch amusedly, wisely deciding it’s not a fight they would be able to win.

 

They spot Andor, with his Rogue One manager and wife, Jyn Erso, at the bar. Rose had filled her in adoringly about how much of a scandal it was when her father was still the manager of Rogue One and how the media found out about Jyn and Cassian’s relationship before they were public, yet they had soldiered on determinedly and once the media barrage and rumours settled down they married and were now regarded as one of the cutest couples in the world that could kick your ass three ways before sunrise. She was definitely someone Rey was eager to meet.

 

Poe winds his way toward his friend and competitor, Rey following close behind.

 

“Hey Andor, how’s it going?!” He yells over the loud bars of Spanish rock music emitting from the speakers around them.

 

“Better after beating your ass today,” Andor replies with a smug smirk.

 

“Watch it, it was all a fluke, we’ll be top in Monaco,” Poe returns cavalierly, throwing an arm around Rey’s shoulders. “You’ll see!”

 

“Yes, you certainly proved that today,” comes a sarcastic quip from Jyn, humour twinkling in her guarded blue eyes. She pointedly turns her attention towards Rey, standing slightly to the side.

 

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” the fellow Brit continues. “I’m Jyn. Good work on getting through that crash today, I wish we’d had a chance to get you on the Rogue team before Resistance snapped you up.”

 

Rey blushes.

 

“Oh that was definitely luck, I think I basically shut my eyes and hoped for the best going through it,” Rey returns Jyn’s smile but Poe quickly jumps in.

 

“Uh-uh you’re not allowed to steal her from us, Jyn,” Poe warns, alcohol clearly making him brave enough to stand up to her. “I see that look in your eye, you may have nicked Bodhi from Kanata, but she’s _ours_ , clear?”

 

Jyn rolls her eyes at Poe before directing her focus back onto Rey.

 

“I’m more interested in what she has to say about it all.”

 

Rey searches for the right response.

 

“I, erm, don’t think you have room on your team right now,” Rey finds lamely.

 

Jyn laughs, there’s still that guarded look in her eyes yet she’s kind despite it.

 

“You’re not wrong, but then again,” she pretends to think. “I wouldn’t object to making room if the opportunity came along,” she smirks looking at Cassian.

 

“And it is times like these I wonder why I ever married you,” the Mexican driver sighs back.

 

“Last I heard it was for favouritism for team orders,” Jyn quips without missing a beat.

 

Rey laughs at their flirty exchange.

 

“I didn’t even know you two were married until the start of the season.”

 

Jyn raises her eyebrows in polite surprise, but then the song changes to something clearly both Poe and Cassian know well because they’re positively running to the dance floor when the opening beats thump out. Jyn gently grasps Rey’s arm as brightly coloured lights flash erratically.

 

“It’s best not to get in their way when they get like this,” she shouts over the added volume of the new song.

 

She nods towards a small table just off the dance floor and Rey follows her towards the marginally quieter seats.

 

“So you’re an F1 driver and you didn’t know Cassian and I were together? I don’t know whether to be worried or impressed.”

 

Rey just shrugs, it’s fair enough really.

 

“I never really got to see much of the background details of F1, just usually saw stats and re-runs of races sometimes,” Rey says in explanation. “Although I did sneak into a British GP once when it came to Silverstone, I was eight at the time, I remember because Ahsoka won that race, and she took out the 2006 Championship that year. That was the last time Jedi won a Championship.”

 

Jyn just gives her a small smile.

 

“Well I don’t claim to have all the gossip from behind the scenes but I’m sure I can enlighten you on some of it, if you twist my arm.”

 

Rey grins looking out at the dance floor where Rose and Finn are deftly avoiding Poe and Cassian's flailing limbs.

 

“I wouldn’t worry, Rose seems to have that covered, she’s obsessed with how romantic Cassian and your story is.”

 

Rey looks back to Jyn to find she has followed Rey’s line of sight and is watching their friends on the dance floor. Rey takes a moment to observe her, she’s regarding Cassian dancing with a small affectionate smile. She looks so different for a moment and with a jolt Rey realises she doesn’t have that guarded look in her eyes.

 

“Was it difficult with Cassian and the media scrutiny?”

 

“Sure,” she replies still watching her husband. “I guess it was tough constantly having to defend the relationship but it didn’t really matter what anyone said, in the end we did what we wanted and everyone else just fell into line eventually,” she rolls her eyes as Cassian catches her watching and begins miming a lasso to throw at her but her smile widens.

 

“It was worth it,” Jyn tells Rey a tender quietness in her voice that makes Rey’s heart swell with yearning.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:              90

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:               88

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:       79

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                        65

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:      50

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:             30

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                    26

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                    24

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:           14

Garth Maul - Sith:                                 12

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                              10

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:        4

Mace Windu - Jedi:                                4

Baze Malbus - Force One:                      3

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                        2

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                            1

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:              1

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:            1

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                          1

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                         0

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this chapter is very sparse on Ben and Rey interaction and it makes me sad too! I hate to be a tease but there will be more coming up, it's just I felt I needed to establish her more within her friend group as well as introduce a bit more of the other F1 competitors into the personal mix.
> 
> Yet again, life has been crazy the last few of weeks but I think work/uni will be more steady now so I’ll actually have my writing days back!
> 
> Stay tuned, I’m excited for the next chapter so I hope you are too ;)


	5. Monte Carlo, Monaco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two stubborn drivers in a room together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told y'all I was excited for this chapter ;) hope you enjoooyyy
> 
> Definitions 
> 
> Chicane: a sharp double bend that forms an obstacle.

 

“Welcome back to the streets of Monte Carlo!”

 

“And we certainly are glad to be here, aren’t we Biggs?”

 

“Sure are, there’s no other race like it, the history, extravagance and elegance of Monaco is simply unmatched!”

 

“This is the race the driver can make all the difference in, all the distractions; the crowds, corners, cameras, bugs, all coming at you at once makes a non-stop frenzy for the 78 Laps and 19 corners, including that famous Grand Hotel Hairpin on Turn 6. First of course our drivers will have to get through the practice sessions, qualifiers and the Durasteel Gala before they can even contend for that coveted Monaco win on Sunday!”

 

“It certainly takes one hell of a driver to handle this weekend and we’ll see if Rogue can continue that impressive pace they showed in Spain or whether the masters of Monaco, Ren and Dameron will claim yet another win at the Circuit de Monaco!”

 

* * *

 

Saturday 26th May

 

_Bwaam. Bwaam._

_Waaa._

 

Left, right, accelerate, brake, change down gears, left, accelerate, green, green, green, red, change up gear, accelerate, brake.

 

Rey cycles through the process during Q3 trying not to get frustrated at the lack of straights to let loose on. She knows there aren’t many and the ones available are rather unsatisfactory in the length department but it’s making her feel trapped and constrained on the Monte Carlo street circuit she can’t seem to get comfortable on.

 

She sees Fett’s blue and grey car up ahead and pushes herself that bit more in her hot lap, trying to suppress the irritation at the track and the traffic holding up everyone’s attempts to set competitive times. Quiggold, only just making it into Q3, suffered a crash in the opening corners of the session, mere seconds into his hot lap and the resulting debris prevented the remaining 9 drivers in the Qualifiers from entering the racetrack. Once the track had been cleared sufficiently only 8 minutes were left of the round, leaving a crowded track with everyone trying to gain the fastest time to secure the best place in the grid tomorrow.

 

So far Rey was doing well if she did say so herself, considering her tenuous relationship with the circuit. Her fastest hot lap had her placing 7th but if she wanted to keep it she’d have to go faster.

 

She gains ground coming up behind Fett before having to break right down to first gear for the hairpin at Turn 6. But seeing Fett ahead has given her an incentive almost, something to get ahead of.

 

Rey increases speed even as she heads downhill and around the two right handers of 7 and 8 sticking as close to Fett as she can. They both plunge into the darkness of the tunnel, speeding up for the fastest corner if the track, zipping through and into the bright warmth of the Monaco sun shining down on the harbour.

 

Rey holds her nerve on the short straight as Turn 10 and 11 approaches sticking close to the inside of the track and nearly brushing the edge as she keeps her speed as high as she dares.

 

Fett slows down first approaching the Turn 10 chicane and…

 

She slips between Fett and the corner, mounting the yellow chicane as she uses every ounce of space to squeeze past before peeling off ahead of the New Zealander on the narrow streets to confirm her overtake.

 

“Yes! Come on!” She yells to herself.

 

Rey cycles through the rest of the lap feeling Fett tight on her tail before passing under the gantry to start another hot lap in an attempt to go faster.

 

Finns voice crackles through the comm.

 

“That lap was 1:11:953, you’re placing 5th so far, top time is 1:10:864.”

 

“Who’s top?” Rey asks sharply, jerking around the 90-degree bend of Turn 1.

 

There’s a break in the conversation and Rey almost asks again but Finn’s voice returns with some hesitancy added to it.

 

“It’s, uh, it’s Ren,” comes his uncertain reply.

 

Oh.

 

She’s not too sure how to feel about it. She hadn’t told Finn about what happened at the briefing in Spain… or rather what didn’t? She’s not even sure _anything_ happened, at least not anything that could be conveyed in words.

_Bwaam. Bwaam._

 

Ugh, Rey thinks as she shoots out of the tight hairpin and picks up speed to extend her lead, nothing makes sense when she thinks about Ren.

_Waaaa._

 

It wasn’t like they’d even properly crossed paths since China. That confrontation still unsettling a bit of fresh guilt in her when she thinks about her own reaction. But what could she do? Talk to him? Apologise out of the blue? She doesn’t even know if he deserves the apology and they certainly weren’t at the level of acquaintance to just have a pleasant chat.

 

Besides, she attempts to sooth her mind, surely he’d already forgotten all about it, she just has to do the same and focus on the race.

 

Accelerate, green, green, green, red, change up gears, brake, change down gears, right, decrease in elevation, brake, right, accelerate, green, green, green, red, change up gears, increase in eleva-

 

The sudden decrease in elevation takes Rey by surprise, her body expecting a rise and it throws her momentarily as her body tenses uncomfortably at the unexpected forces pressing her up. It relents but Rey sees a looming left-right turn she hasn’t prepared for.

 

She’s lost. On a completely different part of the circuit in her mind. She yanks the wheel left successfully navigating the first corner but her speed remains too high as she takes on the right turn. Rey brakes-

 

But too late.

 

She hits the wall hard, glancing her front right wing into the barrier and shearing off her front right wheel and crumpling panels on the body of her car. Pain lances through her arm as she hits the edge of the cockpit on impact. There’s a nasty grinding.

 

Just as suddenly, the car comes to a halt, hissing in pain, steam issuing out of the warped chassis. The piercing roar of an F1 screams past.

 

Shit, is the only thing Rey can think numbly.

 

Rey wriggles trying to escape the wounded race car and a fresh stab of pain shoots through her shoulder, eliciting a gasp of agony.

 

Perfect. Dislocated shoulder, _just_ what I need.

 

Rey struggles out of the car more carefully, extricating herself just as the first responders rush onto the scene, fire extinguishers at the ready as a precaution.

 

“Rey! Rey!” Finn’s voice blares in her helmet. “Are you alright?”

 

Rey reaches up with her left hand to the manual button on her helmet, her right virtually useless.

 

“I’m okay, knocked my shoulder a little but I’ll survive.”

 

“Oh thank god,” come Finn’s reply. “Sorry, Peanut, but you’re done for the qualifiers.”

 

Rey sighs, it’s certainly not a surprise looking at her dented and steaming X-Wing but the words hit hard all the same.

 

“Yep,” she replies shortly, hoping her best hot lap will keep her in good stead.

 

“Go straight to the first aid tent with the marshals, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can,” Finn fusses, “and make sure they check you for shock too.”

 

“Will do, thanks Finn,” she returns as she follows the race marshal directing her off the track as a crane moves in to remove her car so hot laps can resume for the final few minutes.

 

Rey begins the trek back to the paddock pulling her helmet off with some difficulty and keeping her sweat-soaked head down. Oddly enough, apart from the pain occasionally lancing dully through her shoulder, there isn’t that encompassing ache of disappointment in herself at the outcome. She’s at very least secured a spot in the top 9 but also, even if it wasn’t an ideal end to the qualifiers, she knows she gave the best she could on a track she had trouble grasping, one which had undone many drivers better than herself.

 

Her main feeling however, is concern for tomorrow.

 

An injury like this, while not serious enough to be life-threatening could put her out of contention if she’s deemed unfit to drive.

 

Despite Han’s kindness Rey doesn’t want to cause more trouble. Chewie and the crew will work hard and will have her car ready for tomorrow and she sure as hell is going to be there to drive it.

 

Rey hears the announcer yelling new times through the loudspeaker on the long walk towards the paddock, harbour breeze tossing wisps of drying hair that have escaped her buns.

 

“And that’s Ren with an impressive 1:10:154!”

 

Rey knows there is no chance she is letting her team down by not racing tomorrow just because she let her focus slip for a second.

 

Rey sets her determination and continues walking, trying not to bring attention to her awkwardly positioned shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Kylo pulls into First Order’s pits, removing his steering wheel so that he has enough space to unfurl from the tight cockpit, fury swarming over him.

 

Hux stands ready to walk over to the paddock with him for the post-Qualifying interviews.

 

“Dameron beat you,” he says tightly, although there’s definitely some kind of conflicted pleasure from seeing Kylo lose.

 

He glances unnecessarily at one of the screens, Dameron’s number 8 above his 1, flashing with the time 1:10:107

 

“I’ll get him tomorrow,” Kylo returns irritably through his visor as he strides past without waiting for Hux.

 

He yanks off his helmet, focused on getting questions over and done with so he can fully prep for tomorrows race, making quick work of the press, despite Hux preening for the camera.

 

Snoke is inspecting his Silencer when they return to the garage, unnerving the mechanics as they begin cleaning it up from the days racing.

 

His anger had been something to behold in Spain after the mishap with the back tyres that cost Kylo the race. No one was keen to see a return of Snoke’s twisted face yelling at them until he was hoarse with fury. Two mechanics were dismissed after, which quite frankly was Snoke being lenient, still, a deep sense of fear was further embedded in the team. One not even he was immune to.

 

“Something’s wrong with the power unit,” Kylo reports when he reaches his manager. "It's not hitting top speed on the straights, I can feel it."

 

Snoke doesn’t say anything, just examines the head mechanic, Moden Canady, waiting.

 

Canady nods.

 

“Yes, sir,” responding to a command that was never issued and marching off to delegate work.

 

Kylo moves to follow the mechanic.

 

“Where do you think you are going?” Snoke rasps out.

 

“I want to make sure they fix the issue.”

 

Hux and Snoke stare at him; Hux as though he’s doing the Macarena in a dress and Snoke in boredom.

 

“Must I remind you that there is a gala tonight, Ren?” Snoke begins in his deep, coarse voice. “A gala in which your appearance is necessitated by our sponsors.”

 

“Kyber representatives will be attending along with their brand ambassador,” Hux patronises, following Snoke’s example. “This is their most lucrative market, Ren, of course they’ll expect you to be there for the event.” He grins smarmily. “Oh and Kyber have provided a special gift for you to wear when you appear with Bazine.”

 

Kylo feels that familiar pull of anger rising against his lack of autonomy, he curls his hands into fists, ready to lash out any second.

 

“I will _not_ be dressed up and paraded about in je-.”

 

“Silence!” Snoke demands, effectively silencing both him and Hux as well as the whole garage.

 

A wrench clangs to the floor, punctuating the hush.

 

“They have sent a wristwatch for you,” he says icily quiet.

 

Kylo stays quiet but his fists don’t unfurl, straining against his gloves until Snoke dismisses him to prepare for the gala, not the race tomorrow.

 

Kylo steps away from the garage, in need of some salty, fresh air to cool his anger. He looks out over the crowded paddock in disdain as other drivers conduct their post-qualifying interviews, wondering just how much more of the circus he’ll have to endure until he can be free of his contract. A slim orange-clad figure catches his eye, cutting directly across the paddock away from the huddle of reporters, differing so much from the ambling figures wandering about.

 

He lets out a breath, releasing some frustration as curiosity takes hold.

 

He doesn’t think, he just follows the need to get away from Snoke’s garage.

 

* * *

 

Once Rey finally reaches the pits she thinks quickly, telling the race official she’s been asked to check in with her team first before heading to the first aid tent. The official looks uncertain, but Rey has perfected her poker face, relying on the skill more than once to save her from her foster father’s anger.

 

He reluctantly allows her to go, lecturing her to go straight there afterward before leaving in a huff, muttering about rule-breaking brigands in a way that distinctly reminds her of Threepio.

 

Rey begins walking towards the Resistance garage before veering off into the shadowed alley beside the Sith garage that leads out to the open paddock, trying to stay out of sight and just hoping that everyone will be too focused on the other returning drivers to notice her.

 

She edges down the alley, scanning the paddock for something that will suit her needs…

 

…and spots an empty storage garage across the bustling clearing.

 

Rey steels herself, taking a deep breath as she steps out of the shadows and into the crowded paddock, pretending she has some very legitimate reason for walking determinedly towards the vacant garage. She manages it, slipping past the door.

 

The dusty floor of the storage garage leads to a concrete bench, haphazardly covered by old screws, rusted tools and scraps of paper. An old fridge that looks like it could have been around since the '60s sits undisturbed in the corner, with tool cabinets lining the wall next to it. Oil containers fill the floor waiting to be useful along with cleaning cloths and tins of polish.

 

Rey promptly beelines for the bench inside trying to hoist herself onto it one handed when a tall shadow looms over her, blocking out the sunshine leaking in.

 

Rey whips her head around defiantly.

 

And the partial reason for her loss of focus today suddenly fills her vision not two metres away. She sets her face as unwarranted irritation fires up within her… apparently her feelings didn’t get the memo to get over the whole Melbourne and China thing after all. Rey turns away, feigning indifference as she gets back to her original objective.

 

“What do you want, Ren?” She bites out, finally managing to hop up onto the bench, swiping away the more dangerous items littering the surface as her other arm flops painfully and the tall, hulking arsehole stands about just as uselessly.

 

“Shit,” he murmurs, taking in her limp shoulder. “Are you okay.”

 

Is that… _concern_ colouring his soft voice?

 

Rey shakes her head dispelling the ridiculous thought.

 

“I’m fine,” she retorts positioning herself face down on the bench with her damaged arm dangling straight down the side. Nothing happens.

 

“What are you doing?” Rey can’t see his face but she can hear the confusion and irritation sharpening his voice.

 

“Having a rest,” she snaps sarcastically back.

 

He doesn’t take the hint to leave.

 

Rey sighs.

 

“Look,” she begins pragmatically into the smooth bench top. “If you’re going to keep on looming around creepily then make yourself useful and pass me one of those oil cans.”

 

Rey angles her head up enough to see his face, he’s looking at the 5 litre containers in confusion before looking back at her in silence. She can almost see the gears in his brain ticking over behind his dark eyes. Finally, he moves off towards the cans, picking one up easily and returning to her, looking at her in perplexed expectation.

 

“Put it in my hand,” Rey commands, indicating towards her right hand with a nod of her head.

 

“That one?” Kylo asks incredulously.

 

“Yes, that one,” Rey replies testily.

 

He doesn’t ask again, just shakes his head with a near imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, bending to place it in her dangling grip.

 

As soon as he lets go of the container Rey feels the ache acutely in her shoulder as it tries to take the weight while being in the completely wrong position to do so. Rey grits her teeth, pushing her forehead into the cement and groaning through the pain. She fights the impulsive urge to tense up, instead relaxing her shoulder and letting the ache intensify. Suddenly she’s rewarded with a sickening shift under her skin, bones grating past each other as her shoulder slots back into place with the help of gravity.

 

She drops the oil can the rest of the way to the floor, sitting up and gingerly testing her arm.

 

Still painful.

 

But at least I’ll be able to hold the steering wheel now, she thinks grimly to herself.

 

Looking up, she finds Kylo standing there looking horrified and… maybe a bit impressed?

 

Rey snorts loudly at his expression, hopping down from the bench.

 

It seems to shake him out of his stupor, he blinks a few times but his deep brown eyes remain wide, his mouth opening slightly as if he’s trying to form a sentence.

 

Her grin widens at the look on his face, distracting her from the pain in her shoulder.

 

Its _almost_ endearing.

 

“Thanks, Ben,” she says quickly and before he can ruin the moment by telling her off for one thing or another, she brushes past him on the way to the medical tent to grab some ice packs.

 

When she glances back, he’s still standing where she left him.

 

* * *

 

Rey takes a deep breath, her loose, lightly curled hair moving gently in the breeze as she stares up at the grand Casino lit up in the night. Warm light drifts out of the doors as press snap photos of the arrivals and valets jog around the most expensive cars Rey has ever seen in one place, including a Grand Prix weekend.

 

Finn gives her an encouraging nod as Rose, Poe and Kaydel emerge from the car that brought them here.

 

Making their way up the stairs Rey hitches the skirt of her silver silk dress that Rose assured her looks ‘banging’, so she doesn’t trip on the long fabric. It’s easily the most expensive thing she’s ever worn and even if it clings in all the right ways it just doesn’t seem to _fit_.

 

She isn’t comfortable. She hasn’t been since the moment she stepped into this excessive principality three days ago.

 

Poe had been utterly unaffected, chatting excitedly about the Durasteel gala at the Casino and how amazing the whole weekend would be. But Rey yearns for the sense of control she had been feeling in her X-Wing lately as she fidgets with the sparkly black shoulder shawl buttoned at her neck, a last-minute purchase to cover the rapidly deepening bruise on her shoulder. It itches at her skin but it’s better than Han taking her off the drive tomorrow or the press photographing it and taking on a wild story.

 

Their little group passes through the wooden framed glass doors. And the room opens up into a dignified expanse, hundreds of people milling about the large room, treading on the deep, stately red carpet with stunning gold embellishments. Five extravagant chandeliers cascade from the rounded, golden ceiling, throwing shimmering light about the space before a wide opening to an adjoining room ahead, decorated just as extravagantly in deep reds and gold, complete with tables full of laughing people throwing chips into large piles.

 

Waiters in crisp black and white attire weave through the crowd in practised movements, trays flowing steadily as they balance fizzling glasses of champagne upon them. The drivers have firm rules prohibiting them from any alcohol in their systems while driving, none of them being foolish enough to do so in the first place, but Han certainly hammered home the point for the whole team before seeing them off that evening.

 

They nod at fellow drivers and Poe waves to some people Rey hasn’t seen before, splitting from them with a quick ‘be right back’ to chat with the strangers.

 

Finn zeroes in on the food, dragging Rey over to the canapés sitting on silver platters stacked precariously on spindly racks. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before and Rey pops ones of the bite size pieces into her mouth, immediately scrunching her face at the texture, slimy and unfamiliar, trying valiantly not to spit it out.

 

Looking over at Finn he seems to have fit 7 into his mouth at once.

 

“Wha? ‘M hngy.”

 

Rey swallows before she chokes, the slimy, unidentified piece slipping down her gullet.

 

None of it seems quite so appealing after that, the tiny morsels apparently passing for food shining impudently.

 

She leaves Finn to his own devices to find Kaydel and Rose hoping she can spend this evening somewhat usefully by strategizing and going over the repairs made to her X-Wing after qualifiers, however they also seem to have disappeared.

 

Before she can head back to Finn a voice emanates from behind her.

 

“Hello, child.”

 

Rey turns quickly, Maz Kanata, manager of Kanata Motors comes into her periphery view, she looks down.

 

“Hi Maz,” Rey replies with a smile.

 

She’s such a small woman but has always seemed so fierce and great ever since Rey’s known of her. She often flirts unabashedly with Chewie whenever she might pass by their garage on race weekends, certainly the type of woman to know exactly what she wants and go for it without abandon. Rey couldn’t help but adore her; her waggish humour a constant companion through all her years in the often-brutal business.

 

But now she’s giving Rey an analysing look behind her large round glasses, her eyes appearing larger than they should, peering out like they’re scrutinising her very soul and seeing every secret.

 

“What are you searching for, child?”

 

“I was just heading back to find Finn.”

 

“Ah, yes, he’s stuffing his face with the appetisers, the crude boy,” Maz replies dismissively with a wave of a hand. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

 

Rey falters a moment.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Maz releases a tired sigh.

 

“You don’t stay in this business this long without being able to read people, child. I’ve seen the same eyes in different people come and go,” Maz ruminates, her tone hinting at her age for the first time. “You are searching for something, child, holding on.”

 

She examines her for a moment with empathy in her sharp eyes.

 

“You must be tired by now of having people tell you all about your potential I’m sure. They talk of it as though it’s set in stone, as though it’s easy. They won’t tell you that you must overcome that which is ruling you to truly reach it.”

 

A splinter of fear enters Rey’s heart at Maz’s words. They’re too honest. Too harsh despite how gently they were delivered.

 

“Whoever you’re waiting for, child, they are not coming back.”

 

Rey blinks at that confused.

 

How…?

 

She tries to find something, _anything_ to say in response but someone calls out loudly, cutting through the muted noise of the room.

 

“Maz! There you are!”

 

Lando Calrissian is winding his way through the crowd towards them. Heads turn in their direction and Maz looks towards the suave man approaching them. Rey takes a step back, letting the crowd consume her, hiding her away from Maz’s view before moving swiftly from the room.

 

Every part of the casino is bustling as the familiar clenching deep in her stomach begins creeping up her ribs while she lurches her way up stairs and through differently coloured rooms, searching for a reprieve.

 

She sucks in a ragged breath trying to focus as the other patrons seem to press in on her, laughing, shouting, taking the little air left in the room and leaving none for her.

 

Rey tries multiple balconies around the complex, frustration edging up when she finds them unsurprisingly occupied by loud, raucous, intoxicated patrons until finally she has some luck and an empty one appears. Hurrying through the ajar French doors Rey feels the cool night air sweep over exposed skin, already soothing her ragged nerves as she reaches the edge of the balcony and grasps the stone balustrade, breathing in the crisp air deeply.

 

It’s tinged with motor exhaust, the combination of freshness and familiar fumes comforting her.

 

“Trying to escape your friends?”

 

Rey sucks in a short gasp in surprise, spinning towards the deep voice. 

 

Her empty balcony appears to be not so empty.

 

Well at least he can clear a space, Rey thinks blandly as she takes in her unwanted companion.

 

Kylo Ren.

 

Ben Solo.

 

Who was she facing tonight? Rey wonders as she takes in her First Order opponent, looking unfairly dashing and tall as he leans against the corner where the grand balcony connects to the wall, wearing a black suit with a crisp black shirt and a black tie.

 

Rey is no longer surprised she didn’t spot him earlier; he blends so well into the shadows he almost is one himself.

 

“No,” Rey remembers to retort. “I needed a bit of air. It’s too warm in there.”

 

He looks like he doesn’t believe her but leaves it, arms folded against his broad chest as he scrutinises her appearance.

 

Rey shifts uncomfortably.

 

“Well, good chat, I’ll leave you be.”

 

Rey begins heading back to the tall doors she had just entered from.

 

“Stay.”

 

He says it so soft she’s not sure if it’s a request or a command, yet Rey finds her feet falter and halt before she gets three paces away. The sheer, white curtain dances gently in the breeze, framing the extravagant golden room inside.

 

“Really, it’s fine, I don’t want to bother you if you would rather be alone.”

 

“You won’t. Bother me, I mean. You can stay… if you want of course.” He tacks on the last part as though he were suddenly remembering how to be polite, that his assumption she would want to stay would be wrong.

 

Rey thinks a moment. He doesn’t seem to be in a mood, and she’d rather face an adder infested junk pile than have to face the crush of people again any time soon. Besides, Ren seemed like a better option than the adders at the moment… only just though.

 

“Okay. Thank you,” Rey says slowly, returning to her vantage point over the grounds.

 

It’s difficult to make out in the dim light but Rey’s sure something like surprise flits across his face.

 

They’re silent for a moment, listening to the sounds around them, frogs croaking in the cool air as the muted sounds of music, laughter and calling trickle out into their alcove, hiding them from it all.

 

“Congratulations. For the qualifiers, you drove well,” Rey says into their silence.

 

She’s not sure why she feels the need to say something kind, but he let her stay in his secluded place and that means something to her even if it might not to him. She doesn’t quite know _why_ he’s being nice, but she might as well be too. Or at least try to.

 

“Poe’s still gonna beat you though.”

 

He snorts lightly, surprising her.

 

“Your dedication to your team is admirable but misplaced. He won’t be a problem tomorrow,” he sounds so sure of himself and frankly Rey’s just surprised he didn’t yell at her to leave.

 

“How do you know?” She inquires.

 

“Dameron might be good at Monaco but I know his weaknesses on the circuit.”

 

“And they are?” Rey asks innocently.

 

A smirk pulls at Ren’s mouth.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

Rey shoots him a feral grin.

 

“It was worth a shot.”

 

“Barely,” he says derisively.

 

It almost feels like a normal conversation instead of chatting with the Prince of Darkness himself.

 

“Will you be driving tomorrow?”

 

“Of course,” Rey replies immediately, watching a pair of people stumbling out into the grounds below.

 

“Thank you for your help today,” Rey says sincerely after he fails to pull his weight in the conversation.

 

He’s silent for a time and Rey wonders if she should just leave him be.

 

“Why didn’t you get it treated properly?” She hears him ask curiously.

 

“It was just a dislocated shoulder,” Rey tries to sound nonchalant. “I’ve had one before.”

 

“So have I,” he returns dryly. “I also decided to get proper medical attention for it.”

 

Rey looks down at her hands.

 

“If they treated it they might not have let me race tomorrow,” she says quietly.

 

Her team worked so hard and she couldn’t bring herself to let them down, not if there was anything in her power to prevent it, yet more than anything she _wanted_ to race, to fulfil… something within her that told her to, no matter how terrifying the circuit might be.

 

Ren’s quiet for a long moment. Rey looks up at him expecting judgement or cruel amusement. There’s none of that, just quiet understanding filling his dark gaze.

 

It’s intense and Rey has to look away. The pair she saw earlier are stumbling their way through a garden path, tripping over each other, champagne flutes in hand.

 

She hears slow footsteps scraping lightly against the stone, but she can’t look around.

 

She takes a steadying breath.

 

“So when did you dislocate your shoulder?” She forces herself to ask.

 

“A race,” he says quietly from behind.

 

She shivers.

 

“Did the crash injure your ability to wear anything other than black too?” Rey quips lightly, she lifts her chin, forcing herself to turn and face him. He’s close. Closer than she thought he was. If she wanted she could reach out and touch his face.

 

There’s amusement in his dark eyes.

 

Pretty eyes, Rey thinks suddenly, but dangerous. Like you could fall into them and never reach the bottom. Drown in them for eternity if you weren’t careful.

 

But they aren’t on hers anymore, instead drifting down to linger on her injured shoulder, hidden from view by her fastened shawl.

 

“I do have an image to uphold,” he murmurs with a curl of his lip, but there’s some bitterness too, almost undetectable.

 

It draws her in deeper. Dangerously.

 

His hand reaches up brushing her skin lightly as he gently lifts the black, scalloped shawl off her right shoulder, letting the light spilling out from inside illuminate the deep blue and purple splodges around the joint.

 

Rey’s heartbeat increases, her breath catching in her throat as she feels the pad of his thumb gently trace a bruise, so light it could be the breeze.

 

She forces herself to stand her ground and not look away from his eyes, still gazing at her battered shoulder.

 

“Why do you need an image?” She tries to ask confidently but it comes out as a whisper.

 

She curses herself inventively.

 

He doesn’t respond, focused on the skin under her sparkly shawl.

 

“Ben?”

 

His eyes slide up to meet her own.

 

Heaviness and uncertainty litters his gaze and it makes her heart clench uncomfortably.

 

He slowly lowers his hand, allowing the shawl to lower back into place as it loses its support.

 

He blinks and his gaze clears to something… less vulnerable.

 

“You’ll drive well tomorrow. I meant what I said; you’re a good driver,” Ben tells her pragmatically, his deep, soft voice sounding so certain.

 

Rey releases a small relieved breath, confused by the sudden draw back yet grateful for the decrease in tension between them, not ready to think about what it might mean.

 

“At least one of us has confidence in me,” Rey sighs and she shakes her head. “I dunno, something about the track just doesn’t get through my head.”

 

“It’s the city,” Ben says seriously just observing her and for a moment she wonders if he’s read her mind or feelings about this tiny country.

 

“Forget it all, it’s a distraction,” he continues unfazed. “Places like this show the glamour, draw people into the lie, but they want everything from you in return and they’ll take it all if you let them. Don’t think about any of it, the track, the people, the competition even. The only thing that matters is the drive.”

 

Rey opens her mouth not sure what to say in response but she’s saved from answering when she feels her phone buzz through her small black purse.

 

It’s Finn.

 

**Finn**

**Where you at Peanut? We’re gonna head off soon and I need back up to get Poe away from the Roulette table!**

 

“I have to go,” Rey says, smiling at Finn’s message and shooting a quick one back saying she’ll be right there.

 

She looks up at Ben and sees a flash of something… maybe anger or disappointment, but it’s gone before she gets a good look.

 

She gives him a soft smile.

 

“Thank you though,” she says gently, trying not to lose they fragile harmony they'd struck. “For earlier and for now. I’ll think about what you said.”

 

Ben just nods, a casual air of indifference returning to his persona.

 

Rey takes her leave, heading for the tall doors to find her way back to her team.

 

She reaches them and turns, remembering.

 

“I’m sorry, for China. I was a bit of a prat,” she says honestly.

 

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, avoiding her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry for calling you a cheat in Australia,” he mumbles quietly before quirking an eyebrow at her. “Even if you did just try to find out my tactics against Dameron.”

 

She smiles, a sense of mischievousness rising in her at their unsteady truce.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ben,” she promises him and Rey takes a moment to appreciate his widening eyes and bewildered expression, turning away and quickly leaving before it can disappear back into his mask of cold disinterest.

 

* * *

 

Kylo stands there a while longer, looking at the doors she just slipped out of sight through, his mind still seeing the smile stealing onto her face, making her dark eyes glint in the night. Eventually he has to turn away from the doors in an attempt to stop his heart hammering in his chest.

 

He shouldn’t be acting like this. He was Kylo Ren for God’s sake.

 

Then again… he was Kylo Ren… this shouldn’t be happening at all. People didn’t just _chat_ with him, especially not the other drivers. Hell, even Phasma barely spoke to him and she was his team mate.

 

But he broke. She started to leave and desperation gripped him and…

 

Horror rushes into the pit of his stomach.

 

He touched her.

 

Why on earth would you _touch_ her? Comes a dark, icy voice.

 

He didn’t think, just followed that foolish pull towards her. He was usually good at holding back, too used to breaking things than risk damaging something important, yet knowing she was injured brought on a feeling akin to anger… although not quite the same... that clouded his mind nonetheless.

 

He shouldn’t have touched her.

 

 _None_ of it should have just happened. She was the enemy. It wasn’t his place to try and make her feel better.

 

She won’t be a real threat, he tries to tell himself, Monaco was tough for anyone, but newcomers struggle most of all with the tricky, perilous circuit.

 

The thought alone tastes like deceit.

 

He runs a hand through his hair.

 

What is wrong with him? He’s never had this sort of reaction to someone before.

 

When he was younger girls hadn’t exactly swooned at his feet despite his father’s fame and mother’s influence. It hadn’t particularly bothered him either, too focused on winning to care about love or sex. It was only after he was a champion that people seemed attracted to him… and that turned out to be more repelling to him than anything else.

 

But suddenly she appeared, with everything that should have been his, able to see through every invention about his life and actually talk to him like he was more than Kylo Ren. He can’t even remember the last time someone teased him, they were usually too afraid to and rightfully so. But he had made her smile and there wasn’t that awkward pause as his dark humour usually missed the mark.

 

Something about her intrigued him. That certain ferocity in her defensiveness is one he can relate to, yet there’s also a light... so pure in her manner that draws him closer.

 

“Kylo?”

 

An alluring feminine voice interrupts his fretting.

 

He sighs, knowing what the voice means.

 

Time’s up.

 

He turns towards the doors.

 

Bazine Netal stands there looking distinctly unimpressed, dressed in a sheer material that shows off her figure despite being adorned with thousands of shimmering crystals. More diamonds hang from her earlobes and wrists, complementing her dark hair and eyes as she glitters in the night.

 

He was meant to be with her the whole night as they smarm up to potential clientele for Kyber. Making them want to buy into the whole fake package. However, he managed to dissolve away from the attention into his hiding place and evade her most of the night.

 

Bazine wasn’t so bad. She has a mind for business and knows what to expect having been around this before and even appearing with him in Monaco when she represented another brand, but she just attracts attention. It was basically her job to be at the centre of the party and make connections for the brand.

 

And that was just something he couldn’t seem to do.

 

“People _know_ you don’t have that many friends,” she tests measuredly. “I can’t keep using it as an excuse when people ask where you are.” Her eyes light up ravenously. “Maybe I’ll tell them you’re looking for a ring,” she threatens audaciously, alluding to a suggestion they should conduct a sham engagement for publicity a few years back.

 

Kylo’s silent, unwilling to bet she wouldn’t go through with it. Her career thrives off her conspicuous social life just as much as actual talent.

 

“Or perhaps I could tell them who you’re spending all you time with?” She probes innocently.

 

He keeps his countenance, unsure if she means what he thinks she does.

 

She sighs, appearing disappointed when she receives no retaliation. “Come on, you’re mingling with me for what’s left of the night, I won’t lie to Snoke.”

 

Kylo takes a last look out into the grounds, adjusting the stately, silver shackle encircling his wrist, a couple sitting on a bench lit by glowing lamps titter and caress each other, before steeling himself for the charade and following Bazine back into the Casino.

 

* * *

 

Sunday 27th May – Monaco Grand Prix

 

Cameras flash from every direction as Rey makes her way toward her X-Wing parked in 9th on the grid but she can forget it. Put it to the back of her mind while she focuses on what’s really important. If she’s going to pull off this race she’ll need every ounce of concentration.

 

Even more if she plans on gaining positions today.

 

The Monte Carlo circuit was notoriously difficult to overtake on, some corners were physically impossible to have two F1s on at once, which often made the race more a question of who would make it through the narrow streets and difficult turns rather than what position they would finish in.

 

Rey recalls her race strategy as she settles into the low seat of her X-Wing. They key aspect was that her car was faster than many on the track so if she could get into position by the short straight after the tunnel she might just have the opportunity to overtake before the sharp, left, right of the Nouvelle Chicane of Turn 10 and 11. The dark, muted gleam of Hypersoft tyres surround her racer. The light pink dashes on the matte tyres marked the softest and fastest compound in the Championships that would help her in breaking down the gap between herself and Poe as much as possible before she’d pit early to Supersofts for hopefully the rest of the race.

 

Rey takes the moments before the lights go green for the formation lap to breathe, feeling her steering wheel firmly in her gloved hands as the warm sun beats down on the metal surrounding her. She flexes her legs as she settles into position, her shoulder aching steadily.

 

As much skill as it might take to get around this track there’s also that bit of luck that she’ll certainly need too.

 

Rey forgets everything and gives herself over to pure instinct.

 

* * *

 

The corner approaches quickly and Kylo slams on the breaks just avoiding smashing his Silencer into Dameron’s racer just ahead as they power into Turn 17 of la Rascasse just keeping the gap between them.

 

Dameron powers away and Kylo gives chase.

 

It’s been 68 laps of this. With only 10 laps left Kylo begins to feel that string of pressure coil about his throat.

 

“Hutt car ahead,” comes Hux’s brittle voice over the comm. “Right of track on 19.”

 

Kylo follows Dameron as he takes the tight right hand turn of 18 wider so they have more control as they approach the trailing lime green racer that rapidly comes into view.

 

He doesn’t care who it is, it doesn’t matter even for a second, his concentration fully on Dameron again as the hindrance is lapped.

 

No matter what he does he just can’t seem to get ahead.

 

After Dameron started off slow, doing just enough to prevent Kylo from overtaking, First Order had to scramble to find a solution, deciding to bring him in early on Lap 12 to get the tyre change out of the way but as soon as he veered into the pits Poe increased his pace, creating a gap by the time he returned behind Andor in 5th place. Not only that but while he was busy trying to get back to the front over the next laps, Dameron used his lead and reprieve to pit and return to the race in front.

 

After obstinately scraping back his places to get into second he finally reached a position behind Dameron to attempt a precarious overtake after the tunnel on Lap 29… only to put his foot down and have nothing happen.

 

No more power.

 

He’d had to slink back into place behind Dameron while his engineers frantically searched for the reason for the loss of power again after their efforts yesterday to correct it. With their direction he’s able to manage it enough to keep up but no more.

 

Not even Dameron’s usual penchant for wearing out his left tyres is as prevalent. He had gone for the Supersofts after pitting; the tougher compound withstanding Dameron’s driving better than the Hyper or Ultrasofts but combined with Kylo’s power issues he was managing just fine in the lead.

 

If that hadn’t sealed his fate then Lap 64 certainly did, with one of the Kanata cars experiencing some kind of failure and collecting Andor’s Rogue racer on the straight after the tunnel, leaving a smattering of debris and a Safety Car enforcing their static positions.

 

10 Laps to go and it’s lost.

 

He knows it. His team knows it. Every chance they had was foiled as another driver got in the way, seeming to target him, holding him up while Poe got past unhindered.

 

He knows Monaco far too well to believe that there is still a chance at him winning. As perfect as conditions have to be for a successful race on these streets, luck was a factor too… and neither seemed to be particularly favourable towards him today.

 

The only way he could win would be if Dameron crashes out and leaves it open for him to take. He sticks close as the Safety Car retreats for that chance alone, attempting to find his way past during the last laps around the short track.

 

* * *

 

An array of variously coloured F1 zoom past the stands as the crowd cheer and cameras snap.

 

Passing under the gantry and beginning the final lap with the climb to Turn 1, Rey’s in P5 after gaining a few places early on, pitting and losing her positions for a few laps before others had to begin peeling off for the pits and allowing her to regain them again.

 

There’s still a steady thrum of focus in Rey’s mind, despite the distractions and the heat shrouding the cockpit. She adjusts her position ever so slightly, responding to the circumstances as they appear in front of her rather than cycling through a rigid process. A corner approaches and Rey brushes the barrier to gain an extra millisecond before feeling her X-Wing push through, gaining power.

 

There’s a car ahead, taking the corners just as proficiently as her, plunging into the tunnel ahead, moments before Rey does. It’s purple and ahead of it a black one, but Rey doesn’t even think about who it is or which teams they belong to, too focused on the feeling of her car powering through the curved tunnel before bursting into the light, feeling the freedom associated with it.

 

There’s little chance at overtaking now, the car in front is just too far ahead to allow it so Rey enjoys the simple thrill of the chase, delight coursing through her as they swerve through the lowest point of the track past the harbour and into the sharp right hander that they slow fully down for. She relishes the feeling of control as she firmly handles the angle, pulling out of it and into another softer turn before chasing the other cars toward and under the finish line.

 

Rey blinks, a wide grin on her face as she breathes heavily in triumph, disassociating herself from her X-Wing and taking in other parts of her surroundings while she follows the track to get back to the pits. Ahsoka slows down in her Jedi racer with Phasma doing the same just ahead of her, and past them both, right at the top of the straight, just winking out of view past Turn 1 is Poe with Ben following close behind in his dark F1.

 

* * *

 

Bazine’s clear laugh rings out like a bell over the harbour next to Kyber's large, glitzy cruiser, though there’s a certain forced quality to it… but that’s the thing; people are happy to believe the lie if it's given with a smile.

 

She’s already sent him three firm looks over the course of the interview to actually contribute rather than just stand there, his attention preoccupied elsewhere.

 

Cheers are emanating from further up the harbour where Resistance are gathered on a large white yacht.

 

She’s somewhere up there too, celebrating with Dameron and the rest of her team.

 

Enduring Dameron’s smug smile up close on the podium had not done much to quell his irritation at the man, even with Phasma in third on the other side. One might think Snoke would be pleased with a double First Order podium yet the Resistance stood between them and took the true glory leaving him to take Snoke’s waspish anger and making the dais a sullen place to be.

 

…Until he spotted her face beaming up at the podium, smiling so brightly even when their eyes met that he’s sure it was at least partially directed at him.

 

It was tough to be so hostile after that.

 

He’s still thinking about her as he’s fielding questions with Bazine half an hour later.

 

“So, we have to ask, are you two together?”

 

Bazine’s laugh is as clear as a bell.

 

“Oh, I’d say we’re just very good  _friends_ ,” comes her coy reply, looking up at him under her lashes as though they share a secret.

 

She’s very good at giving the public just enough to want more.

 

He tries to force a smile though it feels like more of a pained twitch before finding his attention directed back to the crowded white yacht as another round of gleeful cheers go up.

 

* * *

 

A near tidal wave of water rises from the small swimming pool before crashing down over Rey and Finn crouched at the side after they watch Poe take as much of a run up as possible on the packed boat and curl into a ball for maximum impact, completing Resistance’s traditional winner’s dip still in his orange jumpsuit.

 

The team gets drenched and as soon as Poe surfaces a dripping Han pushes his head under again while Chewie wrings out his thick beard, moaning loudly.

 

Some of the team leap into the water yelling in celebration and in the distraction Poe whips out a hand to pull Finn in, smirking as Finn reappears, hacking up water in surprise.

 

A reporter next to Rey leans over them in the water, a camera following her.

 

“How does it feel to have such a convincing win in Monaco?” She shouts over the clamour and splashing.

 

Poe’s returning grin is blinding and Rey’s own widens in response.

 

“Incredible!” He yells down the microphone. “Y’always know that as much preparation as you can do for the race you still need Lady Luck to shine down on you, and she sure was today!”

 

“What are you plans for celebrating?”

 

“Well first I’ll get a drink, having Ren hound me all race wasn’t easy on the nerves and then I reckon we’ll party ‘til dawn!”

 

Poe infinitesimally shifts so he’s closer to Rey.

 

She sees his mischievous look and recognises danger a millisecond before it happens but there’s no space to move back, a solid wall of people clapping and cheering behind her preventing her escape as Poe snags hold of one of her wrists and yanks her into the water with him, Finn and half of Resistance smacking the water and whooping.

 

Cameras flash as she surfaces, standing in the shallow depth and gasping as the cool water hits every nerve but the sun’s warmth soon drives the shock away. She makes sure to splash Poe right in the face before he can escape to the safety of the deeper water a few metres away.

 

Elation fills her when she hears her friends’ laughter.

 

A 1st and 5th place for the team in Monaco left a proud feeling bubbling as excitedly within her as the surrounding water. Monaco might be excessive and intimidating but understanding it better left her able to actually enjoy herself. She grins, returning fire at Finn and committing the moment to memory for a long time to come.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:          108

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:   104

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:             88

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                      71

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:    65

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:          40

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                 34

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                 28

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                           22

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:        14

Garth Maul - Sith:                              14

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:      4

Mace Windu - Jedi:                              4

Baze Malbus - Force One:                   3

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                     2

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:           2

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                         1

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:         1

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                       1

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                     0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! So happy I could finally write them together again, and twice! Damn gurl!
> 
> Resistance’s celebrations are based on Red Bull’s floating harbour where they jump in the pool after a podium in Monaco, when I found that 'lil nugget I knew Resistance were winning this round! Literally cannot even imagine Kylo jumping into a pool to celebrate.
> 
> Bit of a disclaimer: I’ve never had a dislocated shoulder before and Rey’s solution is definitely not recommended if it even works. Someone once told me it was possible to fix it that way in desperate times (i.e. all alone in the bush with no help on the way), but pls don’t be dumb like her, get some of that sweet medical attention. 
> 
> xx


	6. Montreal, Canada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Kylo remains top of the Championship Leaderboard after a challenging race in Monaco, First Order is furious at how close Resistance is behind them and that 2018 isn't shaping up to be a dominant performance from Ren. Meanwhile Resistance come off the 2-week break still on their high from Monaco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Omg, can I just say a maaaaassssssssive THANK YOU to everyone who has commented or sent kudos, I have absolutely adored hearing about all the different parts different readers reacted to in the last chapter it was seriously the best thing ever!
> 
> Sooo I didn't intend to take a break but this ended up being a tough chapter to write and life got busy again so I had a few weeks I didn't have any time to write or even read fanfics, but it’s finally done and I’m actually pretty happy with how it turned out. Fair warning though, it’s a little dark.
> 
> Gonna straight up give a TW for themes of manipulation/psychological abuse, just in case anyone wants to avoid any reference to that.
> 
> xx

Tuesday 5th June

 

Ren punishes his Silencer down the track. One final practice lap before pack up would begin.

 

The sun beats down intensely, a giant yellow eye that burns mercilessly and misses nothing, heating his dark car to its core while his black jumpsuit encases him like a heavy, sweltering blanket. He’s certain the sweat dripping down his face and into his eyes has added at least 2 seconds to his time as he rounds the final right hand corner at First Order's factory track in Woking; their base for the next couple of months before the summer break.

 

Although summer seems to have arrived early in England.

 

He hurtles down the final straight, slamming on the brakes to pull into the garage where mechanics and engineers flock to his Silencer to begin inspections and check stats after the brutal session he put it through. Flicking open his visor, Kylo takes a gulp of vaguely fresher air as he manoeuvres inelegantly out of the cockpit, eager to escape the crowded garage and the cluster of people that only adds to the warm, oppressive air.

 

Nonetheless… a chill prickles at the top of his spine making him halt.

 

Kylo looks around. Nothing.

 

He puts the feeling to the back of his mind, instead beelining for the building joined to the garage, dragging off his helmet before pushing through the door and being rewarded with a gust of chilled air engulfing him; his warm, sweat soaked face immediately cooling. Kylo takes a deep breath, trying to rid himself of the fumes and heat of the track.

 

“Ah, Ren.”

 

Just. Perfect.

 

Kylo’s short reprieve is rudely interrupted as Hux exits a room adjoined to the corridor, his flaming hair serving an unpleasant reminder to the heat he just escaped.

 

“Come,” Hux demands in faux distraction, turning away from him and moseying down the corridor, deeper into the building.

 

On a typical day Ren might fight him; ignoring him and conducting a proper cool down in the training and recovery quarters before joining Hux in his own time, or perhaps catching the strategist up and taking the lead, ensuring Hux knew his place. Typically, he wasn’t this bone-tired. The extra workouts and practice and simulations Snoke had demanded since Monaco had been a brutal reminder of just how easy he’d had it before. So he follows, storing the slight away to contest another day.

 

Hux begins prattling on about the upcoming Grand Prix, his voice more slicing than usual as it whips against the metal and concrete corridor.

 

“Your results the last couple of weeks have been substandard at best although Snoke is liable to believe that you will surprise us at the Gilles Villeneuve circuit, due to your past performances. Of course I was quick to remind him that last year’s success was due in main part to the strategy we put you on so I am inclined to-.”

 

Kylo zones him out; he’s heard it all before from Hux and nothing the man has to say will present a complete picture of the past. Canada was one of his best tracks. It was the first place he ever won a GP in only his 6th race way back in 2007, although his exhilaration at the win was short-lived as suspicion quickly came down on First Order as the newest constructor to the championships. It was nearly unheard of for a company to have such success against other strong and established teams in their first year competing. Even though nothing came of the cheating allegations his win was tainted nonetheless. Throughout his whole career the notorious Wall of Champions had never caught him out, not even Han could say that of his career. And as for Hux… he hadn’t even been there that first year at First Order, so at least he couldn’t try to take that from him. Krennic had been First Order’s main strategist, a Sith absconder, until he was swiftly and inexplicably replaced by Hux in 2008. The man hadn’t been friendly to say the least but he was competent and as they say; distance makes the heart grow fonder… something Ren currently very much lacked from Hux.

 

Hux is still blathering on as the steely corridor leads to a wide open expanse. First Order Racing’s six-story building was designed to echo their insignia and an exact copy of their base in Texas; a hexagonal shape wrapped in dull metal and glass that cloaks everything, including the elevator that speeds silently up the inside of the structure. The centre of the building was hollow all the way up, leading to a skylight that allowed muted light to filter in and down upon the centrepiece; a pristine gleaming model of the latest Silencer, an exact copy of his own on the outside. The whole building seemed to be forged around the model so no one forgot their true purpose amongst the cold steel and glass.

 

Every waft of chilled air calms Kylo as he follows Hux towards a ground level strategist room, trying to shake a distant feeling of unease but a chill on his neck that has nothing to do with the air conditioning halts him in his tracks again, his head turning without his permission, gaze lifting, searching, trying to locate the cause.

 

Snoke stands on the highest level balcony, staring down at him, his pale, sunken eyes as steely grey as the building he created.

 

Ren ignores his racing heart and follows Hux into the room.

 

* * *

 

Sunday 10th June – Canadian Grand Prix

 

Rain pounds into the asphalt of the track.

 

Clouds of mist and water shadow the cars and dull the roars of the racers as they swerve and battle to simply stay on the track, the drivers’ identities difficult to distinguish further than their team's muted colours.

 

Rey feels the rain pelt her hard enough to bruise through layer upon layer of protective clothing as she speeds down the track towards the difficult corner of 13, spray obscuring her vision from the Kanata car ahead and the icy grip of the air refusing to dissipate despite the frenzy of the competition.

 

The race was an utter mess.

 

From the moment lights went out and the cars roared away things started going wrong.

 

The rain, disguised as a seemingly tranquil drizzle as Rey sat in 6th on the grid quickly felt like hostile shrapnel as soon as the cars sped away. It wasn’t long until the race claimed it’s first victims.

 

The initial lap saw a Sith racer try to take advantage of the typical first lap confusion, speeding past Rey too fast out of the grid and clipping the back of Phasma’s Silencer, spinning the dark car into a purple Jedi racer in a shower of mist and collecting another on the way into the grass at Turn 1.

 

No one was injured but all four cars involved retired immediately due to damage and Rey could feel the ragged uncertainty in the depleted pool of competitors.

 

All Rey could do was take a breath and centre herself as the drivers slowly followed the safety car around the circuit while the debris was cleaned off the damp, dark track.

 

Rey had spotted Poe ahead of her still in the pole position he claimed in qualifiers, his orange racer streaked with rivulets of water as the rain drummed into her helmet. Ben followed close behind him, looking inhuman in the black mass of metal, his dark helmet just visible amongst the First Order standards.

 

But then the Safety Car pulled away and they led the other drivers down the track increasing speed until she lost sight of them in the melee of the race.

They’re 14 laps in when the next accident occurs.

 

Rey is racing towards Turn 6, a left just before the less intense right of Turn 7, a Kanata car just ahead chasing a Fett racer.

 

Red lights appear on the Fett racer and the Kanata brakes less than half a second later but it’s still too late and the navy car brushes the back left wheel of the Fett car, knocking it off course and into the barrier. The Kanata car doesn’t get off easy either, the impact sending it careening across the track right in Rey’s path.

 

She’s already braking but momentum forces her X-Wing forward as the Kanata skids past in front, nearly passing safely but at the last moment just connecting with her front wing. There isn’t enough time to take stock of the damage as the car disappears from her vision and Rey goes deep into Turn 6. 

 

“Rey! You all good?” Han’s voice barks down the radio.

 

Rey grapples with the wheel for a moment, yanking back control from the pulling wind and speed on the wet track as she slows enough to avoid the barrier.

 

A few cars zooming past as she fights the elements.

 

More slowly than she’d like she gets her X-Wing into Turn 7, increasing speed once she’s certain she’s regained control of her car before answering Han.

 

“I’m fine, looks like my left wing got clipped but I'll make it to the pits.”

 

“Good. Keep alert, this will be a rough race.”

 

Rey nods once although Han can’t see her and sets her mouth in a thin line as she focuses on the road ahead.

 

* * *

 

Rey pulls into the pits, another non-podium finish but after clawing back positions and having a three-stop race thanks to some stray debris that caused a puncture at least she finished and gained 10 points for 5th place. Not to mention she certainly fared better than others.

 

Ezra Bridger took the win in his home country, becoming an instant hero to the crowd. The Canadian audience had erupted at the surprise win as he had managed to snag the lead from Andor in the final lap after the Mexican went wide on Turn 6 and held on despite Andor’s attempts to claw back pole in the final 8 corners. The home crowd had an even better afternoon when Ahsoka Tano kept her position for the final 9 laps, finishing in third, and causing euphoria in the stands at the fact two of their own had claimed podiums.

 

Chewy claps her on the back as she gets out of the car and she gives him a tired smile, shivering slightly. Anywhere the water has drenched into her skin is bone cold and a deep exhaustion permeates through her.

 

Poe throws an arm over her shoulder.

 

“At least we’re lovable losers together,” his disappointment barely dents his natural charisma.

 

His own race was destabilised after a seemingly inconsequential scrape with Andor late in the race. But as the race went on it was clear something had been damaged by the jolt when he couldn’t hold onto pole as Andor quickly overtook him followed more slowly by Bridger and Ahsoka over the final 15 Laps, leaving fourth place to him.

 

Han grunts.

 

“At least the cars came back in one piece.” He huffs a sigh looking at Poe. “Congrats kid, you’re now leading the Championships.”

 

Any celebration that might have occurred was interrupted by a distant squeal of brakes as another driver pulled into the sodden pits. Suddenly the air is filled with shouts.

 

“What the fuck, Ren? We gave you an opening on Lap 56 and you bloody well let it go!” A wheedling English voice yells.

 

Rey didn’t quite see what had happened to Ben during his race, but she was fairly certain it could have been debris from his collision that cost her a tyre and an extra pit stop laps later. At the time he must have been following Poe but whatever happened while they were lapping Draven on Lap 52 left a dark Silencer spinning out onto the grass and Draven’s Rebellion nose first in the Turn 1 barrier as the pack zoomed past. Whatever the case, Ben didn’t recover. His car may have finished the race but he never made it past the clunky midfield; held up by safety cars and whatever damage he sustained.

 

Rey hears Ben’s deep furious voice return fire.

 

“I told you it wasn’t possible to make! The car would have been damaged worse!”

 

“The damage wasn’t that bad! Snoke approved the tactics himself. Now see here, you don’t get to make these decisions and come in twelfth, Ren, you’re certainly on _thin_ ice-.”

 

“It’s my fucking race, I can’t follow orders if you’re decisions are shit.”

 

“Ren.” Tension coils up her spine, chasing a shiver. Another voice, much quieter that the other two, rumbles out like distant thunder. Silence falls at the silky, certain tone of displeasure. Rey finds herself craning her neck as she, Poe and Rose try to get a look at what is going on in the pit next to them.

 

“Your commitment to the team is… disappointing.” The temperature seems to plummet further as the voice continues. “Hux’s plan could have repaired your miscalculation yet your weakness, your inability to obey has squandered the lead we held in the Championships.”

 

Ben’s deep voice is forced calm.

 

“I couldn’t be certain Dooku would yield, the risk to the car-.”

 

“He would have, but now… no one will.” There’s a beat. “The risks were well accounted for, for the car and yourself… they were deemed insignificant.”

 

Absolute silence takes over for a moment punctuated only by the pounding rain. Poe, Rose and Rey exchange stunned looks.

 

“I’ll do better next time,” the resentment and rage are evident in Ben’s gritted response.

 

“See that you do,” comes the silky reply. “You are not irreplaceable, but we _are_. Remember that.”

 

Rey leans just far enough out of the Resistance garage that rain hits her face and she can see Ben’s large, rigid frame for a moment, his helmet gripped in his hand before he stomps out of sight into the garage. Moments later a loud crashing is heard. Rey whips her head around and can see people scrambling away from the opposite opening at the end of Resistances’ garage.

 

She looks back at Poe and Rose. Poe just raises his eyebrows and lets out a low whistle, spotting Finn, who seemed to withdraw as the commotion played out, and making his way over to the strategist.

 

“Well that’s messed up,” Rose says bluntly.

 

Rey just nods in agreement as the other girl heads back to Chewy and Paige to inspect the X-Wings.

 

Rey’s left on her own with only a creeping sense of righteous anger for company as she replays the way Snoke spoke to Ben.

 

And he just took it!

 

Rey glances around the garage, no one’s paying her much attention, Han seems to have disappeared in all the fuss, the mechanics and strategists are busy and Poe’s attempts at comforting Finn have quickly dissolved into blatant flirting.

 

She sets off out of the garage, following the sound of distant crashing barely discernable over the cheers and singing of the Canadian crowd that waits on the track for the winners to step out onto the podium.

 

A storage shed behind the paddock, away from any curious, trailing eyes is getting a beating from an invisible source, but the strangled roars of rage mixing with the clangs and crashes of metal on metal divulge the offender.

 

Rey sets her stance and strides towards the commotion, ignoring the uneasy voice of reason telling her to head in the other direction.

 

Just as she reaches the door a wayward packet of bolts hits the wall near the doorframe, she jumps clear as they scatter across the floor chinking and rolling this way and that.

 

Rey whips her head around to find the source of the throw.

 

He has his back to her tearing miscellaneous items off the bench in front of him and throwing them or ripping them haphazardly. The whole room is chaos and Rey’s staggered at just how much damage he’s inflicted so quickly.

 

Ben pulls his fist back and slams it into the dark grey concrete wall. Hard.

 

Rey winces at the impact but Ben hardly seems to register it, turning to slash more items to the floor.

 

A tingle of fear runs up Rey’s spine, but now she’s not sure if it’s of Ben or _for_ him.

 

He pulls back his arm, gearing up to punch his bloodied hand into the wall again.

 

“Ben!”

 

It works… well enough. He stops and faces her breathing hard, his surprise clearly dwarfed by a dark glowering look on his face.

 

“Get out,” he grits out.

 

Rey’s certainly tempted. He looks like he could actually hurt her right now and her instincts are screaming at her to run.

 

…But there’s something else. Some other instinct that reminds Rey this is the man that helped her, spoke to her with honesty and support… and now he needs her help.

 

She steels herself.

 

“No.”

 

The look of genuine shock that crosses his face at her simple response almost makes her laugh, but she holds back as his angry scowl returns and he continues huffing out heavy breaths of exertion.

 

“You should leave now. You wouldn’t want to get hurt,” his voice is menacing but Rey sees through it now that the voice telling her to run has quietened down.

 

She takes a slow step toward him, not quite ready to let her guard down in this new territory.

 

For a moment, so quick Rey isn’t sure it happens, he looks helpless but then its gone again, replaced by fury.

 

“Get out,” he says again. “I don’t need some pathetic Resistance garbage skulking around me.”

 

She ignores him continuing to slowly remove the distance between them, watchful for any aggression toward her.

 

Now Rey’s sure she isn’t imagining it; he looks desperate. His brows furrow and stark fear fills his brown orbs.

 

Rey is floored for a moment.

 

Why is he scared? What could _he_ possibly be afraid of?

 

He swallows.

 

“Go away. I’m serious. I don’t want you here.”

 

But now she’s close, she stops just out of his reach.

 

They’re both silent for a long moment. Watching. Ben still breaths heavily.

 

“Too bad,” Rey finally answers quietly.

 

Ben blinks at her, his breath catching for a moment.

 

It suddenly occurs to Rey that she doesn’t have a plan. Up until now she had acted on autopilot and now she has no clue what to do.

 

She scrambles for something to say.

 

“They shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” she settles on honestly.

 

Apparently… the wrong thing to say.

 

Ben’s face hardens and he turns away from Rey.

 

“Listening in, were you?” He snaps. “You’re as bad as all the other parasites.”

 

Rey takes a calming breath, using all her willpower to stop herself from yelling at him. The wretched git.

 

“Leave. Now,” he continues.

 

“Ben-,” Rey begins.

 

“That’s not my name,” he states savagely, his back still mostly towards her. “How about you run back to your pitiful Resistance and leave me the hell alone.”

 

Rey takes another steadying breath and breaks her own rule.

 

She reaches out, taking a small step forward and places a hand on his arm just below his elbow.

 

His head jerks down, body physically jolting at the contact and stares at it.

 

“Ben,” she says quietly but firmly. “Stop.”

 

He does.

 

He doesn’t move or say anything to her. Just stands, breathing deeply, staring at her hand.

 

Rey moves closer, around him so she can see his face better.

 

“Are you okay?” She asks entreatingly, looking up into his face.

 

His gaze finally lifts from her hand, and drifts to her own eyes. Rey tries not to gasp at the confusion and apprehension she sees in his dark gaze.

 

He stares for a long time.

 

“What are you doing here?” Ben rasps out eventually.

 

It’s Rey’s turn to be lost for words.

 

What was she doing here? It’s not like she could claim to be exactly close to Ben. Most of their past conversations hadn’t even been civil… with one exception.

 

She decides to go with honesty.

 

“I don’t know,” she states quietly. “But you helped me in Monaco and I thought you might… want someone to talk to?” She finishes lamely.

 

It sounds stupid to Rey’s own ears and she’s fully ready for him to tell her to get out again, that he doesn’t want her here.

 

He doesn’t do any of that. He just keeps staring down at her, confusion playing along his long face.

 

Rey takes another chance and takes her eyes off his, looking down at his hand and gently moving her own down his arm to softly inspect the damage.

 

His hand is a mangled mess, red raw with blood smeared along his knuckles. It trembles slightly in her light grip.

 

She looks back up at him, noticing how close they actually are finally. His gaze is still fixed on her, pupils wide in the dim garage. His full lips are parted slightly, his ragged breathing only just beginning to even out.

 

He’s handsome, Rey’s mind supplies unhelpfully, noting how his features, maybe odd alone seem to compliment each other into an alluring alignment.

 

“Don’t do that,” she whispers gently, referring to his injured hands.

 

He says nothing.

 

She gulps, too close, she thinks.

 

His gaze is suddenly too intense and Rey feels a new sense of fear, like she’s too close to an edge and in danger of falling into the perilous unknown.

 

She lowers her hands, allowing them to lose contact and steps back, re-establishing the distance she had been so adamant about earlier.

 

It works. Some spell seems to break and Rey feels like she can breathe more comfortably.

 

“You should- you should get your hand checked out…”

 

He nods disjointedly.

 

Rey looks about the room for something to say but only finds the carnage.

 

“Rey.”

 

His voice is hoarse and raw.

 

Rey snaps her head back to him, grateful he’s finally said something, but there’s shame weighing down his shoulders, making him refuse to meet her eyes now.

 

He’s ashamed of what I’m seeing, of what he’s done, Rey realises sharply.

 

“It’s okay,” is all her mind supplies, what other comfort can she give him? “I’d be pissed if Snoke was my manager too,” she offers aiming to lighten the mood.

 

He doesn’t laugh or even snort like she’s heard him do so before but he does look up quickly, his eyes look so soft, so different to how she first met him, how he always tried to look.

 

There’s uncertainty. But hope too.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles quietly to her and Rey feels her heart bleed for him that bit more.

 

“It’s okay,” she repeats, softer this time.

 

Ben coughs, clearing his rasping voice.

 

“I’m fine,” he says, replying to her earlier question finally.

 

Part of her desperately wants to argue that he is clearly not fine, the mess surrounding them helpfully proving that fact yet she holds her tongue this time. He seems calmer and as though he wasn’t about to go on another rampage and injure himself. Maybe that will just have to be enough for now.

 

“Okay,” she replies softly.

 

She turns to leave, stepping carefully through the scattered mess until she reaches the door and there’s a voice from behind her, so soft she could have been imagining it.

 

“Rey.”

 

She looks back at him; the dimness of the garage leaves half of him shadowed in deep grey while a single sliver of light shines though a murky window, leaving a pale splintered beam in front of him.

 

She’s not sure if he said it for her to respond to or more like a prayer but she smiles softly at him before continuing back to her team.

 

* * *

 

A grey and white bathrobe hangs in a styled fashion, untouched as the large expanse of the bathroom reverberates back every breath. The grand mirror reflects the delicate taps and faucet, the imperial style green and white tiles surrounding the immaculate, bright room. The marble bench top is flecked with muted greys and black chips doing nothing to calm the swirling emotions inside him, even as he sits motionless, still in his black jumpsuit, perched on the rim of the huge tub, black boots on as he stares at the balaclava clutched in his bruised hands.

 

He can’t seem to take his eyes off the dark fabric. The way the pliable, synthetic material stretches, becoming taut as it’s pulled to it’s limit and it’s seams creak before returning to it’s original shape. As though it was never damaged in the first place.

 

He had reacted badly earlier.

 

The damage hadn’t been that bad to his Silencer. He had opportunities to get past. But he failed to take them. Snoke may have been tough and harsh… but he saw the potential in him. He was the only one who had seen potential in him.

 

Ever since he first met him.

 

Ben still remembered that day very clearly. The US Grand Prix, 1998. He was nine and in the Resistance pits with his mother and father. Seeing Han behind a screen rather than in a race car hadn’t made much sense to him at that point. He had always been a driver. Had always been the star. And he couldn’t help but feel confused and disappointed that he suddenly wasn’t anymore. Although, as soon as he had voiced that disappointment to his mother Leia had taken him aside and firmly told him that things change but they would support him nonetheless in his first year managing Resistance.

 

He hadn’t liked it, but at least Uncle Luke was still a racer, leading Jedi to greatness.

 

His father was focused solely on his drivers in their final practice, his mother engrossed in a heated discussion with some dull politician who had come to the track for publicity.

 

Sulky and bored enough to risk a stern lecture later, Ben had slipped out of the garage and into the shadows of the Resistance pits in the paddock, not quite daring enough to stray too far from the garage but determined to find something fun to pass the hours before the qualifiers.

 

There weren’t any other children around but…

 

“Hello.”

 

Ben whipped around to see a tall, thin man come into view. Scars warped his face and Ben’s first instinct was to run but he was nine now and determined not to be the baby his parents kept treating him like, so he forced down the fear, feeling it overtaken by curiosity surprisingly quickly.

 

“What happened to your face?” He asked bluntly.

 

Snoke had only smiled at him, more unsettling than comforting.

 

“Sometimes you have to pay a great price to achieve greatness.”

 

“Oh,” Ben tried to pretend he understood the man but he couldn’t help the irritation he felt at not getting a straight answer.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“My name is Anthony Snoke,” the thin man said, extending a hand to shake in a very grown up way. Ben jumped at the chance to be seen as an equal, like an adult.

 

“I’m Ben,” he said proudly, shaking Snoke’s hand.

 

Another smile.

 

“I know. I knew your grandfather.”

 

“I never met him,” Ben chattered honestly. “He died before I was born. But mom says he was a senator, like she’s going to be one day.”

 

Snoke’s smile remained but it was a slow curling one he hadn’t seen before.

 

“Ah yes, Bail Organa,” he said smoothly, “although I was speaking of Anakin Skywalker.”

 

“Who?”

 

“You haven’t heard of him?” The man asked in muted surprise. “Perhaps your parents don’t believe you are ready for the truth.”

 

Ben bristled at the unfairness, but Snoke continued before he could start whinging.

 

“However, _I_ think we both know that you are more than mature enough to be entrusted with such knowledge.” He lowers his voice so Ben has to lean in, completely enthralled. “Years ago Anakin Skywalker was a great racer for Sith. One of the greatest racers ever seen, some would say the best. He was ruthless and unrivalled, I’d never seen such talent before him.” The man takes a moment to assess him. “And he was _your_ grandfather. Your mothers real father.”

 

Ben scrunched his face in confusion. He might have heard the name a few times when he watched races and commentators would reference past F1 drivers… but what the man was saying made no sense at all.

 

“No… that’s not right, his name was B-.”

 

“Bail Organa and his wife adopted your mother when she was an infant,” the man’s tone changes slightly, sounding more like his mother when he distracts her from work, however he changes it back quickly. “But Anakin Skywalker was her true sire, a fact she is very much aware of.”

 

“But… why don’t I know about him?”

 

“As I told you; with greatness comes great sacrifice, many saw him as cruel in his conduct and reviled his strength and ability out of jealousy. A true Champion is strong in all aspects of life, not just the racetrack. Some tried to hide his achievements and conceal their connections to him when it no longer suited them. But he did what needed to be done and he had the strength to do so.”

 

Ben stayed silent unsure what he was supposed to say in response.

 

“I believe that same talent and strength is within you, young Solo.”

 

At those words an odd sense of pride coursed through him.

 

“I’m going race F1s, just like my dad,”

 

“Of course. Racing runs in your blood, deeper than you know.”

 

Ben was silent for a moment, thinking hard.

 

“Skywalker is my uncle’s name, but he’s not my real uncle he’s just friends with my parents.”

 

Snoke nearly oozed glee at that point and although Ben couldn’t fathom why, it was enough to make him gleeful too.

 

“Now, young Solo, it’s very important you don’t tell anyone this, you wouldn’t want your parents to be angry at me for simply telling you the truth, would you? They might not believe you can be trusted with such a secret.”

 

Ben shakes his head quickly, excited to be entrusted with a secret so important.

 

“They might try to punish me for bringing up his name again, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything else in the future. Do you promise me you won't tell them anything?”

 

“I promise,” Ben said solemnly.

 

_Knock knock knock._

 

A respite from his memories comes in the form of three hesitant raps on his hotel door.

 

It sounds like a death knock.

 

Kylo straightens, tossing the black balaclava onto the marble bench top where it remains crumpled and still and stepping stiffly down the short hall to the suite door.

 

That was the night he asked his parents if Luke was his real uncle and they told him the truth, he was Leia’s brother but they had grown up apart, not meeting until chance years later. They never said anything about Anakin and he learnt an invaluable lesson that day; his parents couldn’t be trusted. He didn’t bother asking anything else, he couldn’t be sure they would tell him the truth.

 

He stills when he reaches the door. One hand on the handle, his head down as he takes a deep preparing breath before looking out the peephole.

 

Mitaka.

 

The younger man stands there nervously, apprehension evident on his youthful face.

 

Of course they would send Mitaka.

 

He was a back up driver, racing for First Order in lower echelons. Talented but lacking a certain fire and prone to nervousness. He wasn’t strong either, he’d never endure Snoke’s wrath. Kylo opens the door.

 

“Er hello, s-sir,” Mitaka stumbles through his words as Kylo waits.

 

“H-he sent me to request your presence.”

 

* * *

 

Kylo enters Snoke’s suite carefully, the door was propped open and no one responded to his knocks so he follows his manager’s careful script.

 

A deep plum couch takes centre stage in the room, spotlights shining down like on an actor’s stage put the room on display. Matching curtains cover the large windows, blocking the affording top-floor view of the idling river far below and ensuring no natural light enters as the sun must be beginning its descent. With sunset would come another trial, in the form of a sponsor dinner with reps from Canto Bight Casino, an Italian casino company that had come to Canada for the race. Just another group of people he’d have to be accountable to.

 

Kylo stands awkwardly just out of the reach of the strong lights, he doesn’t want to get comfortable; he hasn’t been given permission yet. Snoke will tell him what to do. A deep green plant attempts to give some life to the room, although it seems overwhelmed by the expanse of it’s task, an untouched liquor cabinet and a vase of sickly looking flowers are the only other occupants of the room.

 

There’s movement from down the hall, slow, shuffling steps that get clearer as Snoke comes into view, wearing a dark business suit with shiny shoes as is his propensity when away from the track. A gold watch glints at his thin wrist.

 

“Ah, Ren,” he says carefully, crisply.

 

His gaze is piercing as usual, giving Kylo the distinct feeling that every flicker of thought is seen and scrutinised by his manager.

 

Kylo clears his throat attempting to throw off the constricting talons of fear there.

 

“You sent for me.”

 

“Ah yes, Mitaka certainly is good at doing what’s asked of him,” Snoke gestures brusquely for Ren to sit down and he obeys although he can’t shake the feeling of falling into a trap as the light fully ensnares him in it’s gaze. His mind involuntarily recalls stories of soldiers being sent over trenches and into no mans land, exposed and without protection or information. Snoke continues, unsympathetic to his unease, “and he has demonstrated some rather impressive results in his training recently.”

 

Snoke tilts his head examining him.

 

“I think it’s about time we reviewed your recent performances,” Snoke continues. “Don’t you agree?”

 

It’s not a question. Not really. He doesn’t have a choice in his answer… yet Snoke waits for it all the same.

 

“Yes,” he rasps.

 

Snoke smiles that cold smile of his, no warmth reaching his icy eyes but there is a touch of triumph still.

 

“Melbourne… Monaco… today…? You have been unbalanced, your focus lacking and continuously upstaged by Dameron time and time again and even more unforgivably, by fresh-faced drivers who have barely escaped training wheels. You have failed to assert dominance in nearly every race this season, your results at Monaco, our best place to attract sponsors was shameful, you left it all to the race and still failed. And here, even after your nonsense with that husk of a Rebellion vehicle, you were given chance after chance to amend and finished… twelfth.” The amount of disgust he puts into the number makes Kylo swallow heavily. “Not scoring even a single point and losing the Championship lead to _Resistance_? You held back, you were _weak_.”

 

Kylo opens his mouth to refute it but Snoke keeps going.

 

“Not to mention your lacklustre efforts at the gala, yes Ms Netal was very informative on the subject, failing to do even your basic tasks let alone your main one!

 

“And after all I’ve done for you… every time I have given you chance after chance,” Snoke voice begins to rise, a sharp pick that splinters through ice. “And every time you have shown yourself to be lacking and still I stick with you! Still I am the only one to have faith in you, you who was meant to be the paramount of racing, you who was meant to surpass all oth-!”

 

Kylo snaps.

 

The glass vase with fake flowers inside flies across the room shattering into the wall.

 

“ENOUGH-!” He roars but Snoke is there cutting him off.

 

“NO! IT IS NOT ENOUGH!” He roars in return and Kylo wavers at the ferocity.

 

There’s sudden silence, as time within the room seems to halt out of fear. Water drips from the wall and into the shattered remains of the vase at it’s base.

 

Snoke indulges in a glance towards the shattered vase, before shaking his head theatrically.

 

“You see? This is exactly why no one else will ever accept you. They can’t understand your temper, your power. None of them could channel your rage and strength the right way. Do you think anyone else would put up with your behaviour as I would, as I have? They would seek to change you, let you succumb to your weaknesses until you are nothing. Yet I know the price of greatness and you must be prepared to pay it.”

 

The words should only be that, yet they cut into something deep within him. A truth he knows. Has always known.

 

“Your bloodline is everything, Ren.”

 

Ben jolts. It’s been a while since Snoke brought up his family. He could almost think that he had forgotten. But Snoke never forgets.

 

“Anakin Skywalker was the epitome of a racer, he never held back, never let doubt nor fear enter his mind, he risked everything to push every barrier and limit. He dominated the sport for so long. And then his son distracted him, made him weak, unfocused. And what happened?”

 

This isn’t a new speech. It’s one he’s heard many times… just not for a while.

 

“He died.”

 

It was the truth. Snoke had always done one thing that Ren could never deny; he had always told him the truth, even when it was a harsh one.

 

It was what he needed.

 

And in his truth was promise. A promise to access his potential when no one else would help him reach it.

 

“I know the talent that lies with you. You are meant to succeed, to overcome your family’s mistakes, and transcend them all.”

 

There it is. Just when he thinks he’s done, Snoke is there reminding him of his destiny. Reminding him of why he is here and what he needs to do to prove himself to his family, to the world. He will not, cannot let anyone threaten his pre-eminence and unassailable triumph.

 

But this time there is a seed of doubt, so miniscule he’s barely aware of it. Yet it’s still enough to make him hesitate.

 

Snoke’s pale eyes sharpen and Kylo immediately feels that familiar fear surge through him.

 

He can’t let Snoke down, he can’t see this.

 

“I will, sir,” he says instead, pulverising that doubt further down where it belongs. Doubt is a weakness Snoke has warned him about and taught him how to deal with.

 

He’s the only one who ever has.

 

“We’ll see.”

 

Snoke turns away, leaving him alone in a hotel room not his own. He leaves, refusing to touch anything other than the door handle to avoid tainting anything that does not belong to him, that he hasn’t earned.

 

Doubt is a weakness as deadly as a bullet on a battlefield. He knows this. But no matter how hard he tries he can’t seem to crush the smallest fragment in his heart into nothing.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:    116

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:           108

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:            106

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                     77

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:   65

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:         60

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:       39

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                          37

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                36

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                36

Garth Maul - Sith:                            14

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                    6

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:    4

Mace Windu - Jedi:                            4

Baze Malbus - Force One:                 3

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:         2

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                      1

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:      1

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                    1

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                  1

 

* * *

 

Desperately hope that wasn’t too disturbing on a personal level, I definitely wanted to delve into Snoke and Ben’s relationship a bit and – shock horror - it’s manipulative as heckerino.

On a lighter note, I finally decided to buck up and get a tumblr so feel free to visit me [there](https://stateyourcase.tumblr.com), I'd love to hear from fellow reylo lovers!

xx


	7. Le Castellet, France

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After arriving in Canada with high expectations, Kylo endures a shock defeat pushing his temper over the edge. Rey follows him after recognising his hurt and loneliness, she comforts him and they reach an unsteady truce. Snoke recognises something changing in his driver and also seeks him out to ensure his commitment to First Order remains his priority before a two-week break commences in the lead up to the French Grand Prix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank Comic Sans font for curing my writers block ay.

“Welcome back to Le Castellet and into the 8th GP of 2018.”

 

“Last week we saw slips and slides and a _rather_ unexpected line up on the podium, I’d say.”

 

“Certainly! WHAT a race last week! That weather was intense and I’m honestly surprised no one was injured!”

 

“And it went completely against what any of us were thinking, with _none_ of our dominant drivers taking podium, except for _Andor_ in second place.”

 

“Yeah it definitely was a surprise but well done to Bridger and Ahsoka for handling that wild weather so well, they really did marvellously.”

 

“Can’t disagree with that! Now let’s talk about our top drivers, as we said we saw Andor come in second which isn’t unexpected but what _is_ unexpected is Dameron and Smith coming in 4 th and 5th, neither Resistance driver getting a podium and of course Phasma getting involved in that first corner collision resulting in her first DNF for the year and Ren placing _twelfth_.”

 

“Oooh yeah, Ren’s gotta be disappointed with that considering Montreal is usually such a comfortable race for him _but_ , lucky for him, he’s had a two week break to deal with the disappointment and hopefully get back into a better mindset.”

 

“I guess we will find out, won’t we, Bren?”

 

“We certainly will, as we bring you the French Grand Prix from Le Castellet!”

 

* * *

 

Wednesday 20th June

 

Kylo sat in the taut leather seat, a generous amount of space before him in the private jet provided by Dreadnought Airlines. Sure, not the most comfortingly named airline to fly with but it suited Snoke just fine to have as many intimidatingly named sponsors as possible. Their namesake, the huge battleships unlike any the world had seen before, had acted as a catalyst to the First World War. The nations that acquired them, acquired strength and influence yet still sought more power as their superiority was matched, pushing the major powers towards conflict and helping to soak the world in gasoline just waiting for a spark that would come in the form of an assassination.

 

Snoke didn’t care about that part. He probably didn’t care that there were no more dreadnoughts left either, apart from one in a museum he had seen as a child. They were outclassed; too heavy a drain on resources to maintain them… so they were replaced.

 

He isn’t sure what Snoke would make of that interpretation.

 

The break had been… confusing if he was honest.

 

The Canada GP had been brutal and the flack he was still catching from Hux and Snoke was frankly about to make him break something… but he hadn’t… and he wasn’t quite sure why.

 

He had used the two week break back at headquarters to drill himself in his Silencer as long as he could each day. And when he couldn’t be in the racer he’d be running simulations or scrutinising changes made to his car or in the gym. Only then when all options were exhausted did he return to his secluded apartment near First Order’s Woking base, the plain grey walls and dark furniture providing the perfect place to finally sleep before he’d be up early to do his drills again.

 

Regardless of how hard he pushed himself, there was something else on his mind that wouldn’t cease no matter what he tried. Something that would seep through, into his skin and poison his brain even when he thought he had done everything to protect himself. Something that made him think that maybe, just maybe, he should be more than what he currently was.

 

Not something.

 

Rey.

 

He still couldn’t explain not only his actions towards her in Monaco, but why she had followed him and stayed despite his temper in Canada.

 

When he’s around her something feels different, a curiosity, a focus that removes everything else, almost like there’s something she knows and he doesn’t.

 

And that infuriates the hell out of him.

 

She’s attractive, sure, that’s a given, but after realising how little that meant as beautiful, cold people continued to cycle through his career it became something to revile more than pursue. Despite their less than friendly encounters and his obvious outburst… she had still sought him out. If he hadn’t ever spoken to her, he could have brushed her off as a simple, English country girl, but he had… and it was clear there was some kind of innate goodness in the woman that guided her. Yet… she had grown up unwanted and lonely, just like him. He couldn’t fathom how that piece of goodness had survived and it intrigued him to no end.

 

“Well Ren, how do you suppose actually listening to our approved strategies for this race?” A voice snarks at him as it approaches from his left.

 

Kylo suppresses an eye roll, or a groan, or perhaps a childish tantrum, maybe all of the above, as Hux settles into the plush, cream chair directly facing him.

 

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” he replies dryly, his mind still completely entangled elsewhere.

 

* * *

 

Thursday

 

Rey was up bright an early for her first full day in France. The bright, light décor of the French hotel room infusing her with energy for the day ahead.

 

She was eager to get in a look at the village of Le Castellet before she had to meet Poe at the race track for the driver’s briefing.

 

She also had another goal for today. To see Ben. Despite that thought making her stomach twist in… what? Fear? Anticipation?

 

Hell if she knew. She only knew she wanted to see him. It felt longer than two weeks since she last saw him in that dim, forgotten garage where he’d seemed just as disregarded and lonely as his surroundings.

 

Something about his look; so hurt and unwanted, had hit her as hard as a punch to the gut.

 

Yes. That was it, Rey thought to herself. She just wanted to make sure he was alright. Once that was done she’d feel better and could fully appreciate her time in France and the race ahead.

 

With renewed vigour she set about preparing for the day, making sure her favourite, bright orange Resistance cap was firmly on her head before setting out of her hotel room.

 

* * *

 

She first spots Ben as she arrives at the track. She’s gushing to Finn about the provincial village they had explored and the crepes they had practically inhaled when suddenly he’s there, not 30 metres away, next to his Silencer, talking to what looks like a First Order engineer – or rather being talked at, if his lack of reciprocal communication is anything to go by.

 

“Uhh, hello? Earth to Rey?”

 

A hand waving in front of her face brings Rey back to reality with a jolt, making her realise that her in-depth analysis of just _how_ incredible French food is had completely trailed off mid-sentence.

 

She whips her attention back to Finn but something about her expression makes him burst out laughing.

 

“Er, I-…”

 

“Are you okay? You look like you just spotted another bakery.”

 

The fear that Finn is about to look over at Ben and realise _exactly_ what caught her attention leaves her completely frozen, even her breath stills as Finn turns to see what made her stop.

 

But then he’s looking back at her with sympathy and that… is not what she was expecting?

 

“You worried about the Silencer’s this week?” He asks quietly before picking up with gusto again. “Don’t be! We are so much better than those chrome pieces of crap! You and Poe have got this in the bag.”

 

With that he continues on towards their pit setup with as much conviction in his stride as his words.

 

Still confused, Rey glances back towards Ben, but he isn’t anywhere in sight… neither is the First Order engineer. Only the race car remains, parked innocently in front of the First Order pits.

 

Huh. Strange.

 

“Rey! You coming or not?”

 

“Yeah coming!”

 

* * *

 

Kylo sat at the back of the room at the driver’s meeting, Phasma next to him, barely listening to the discussions going on, eyes focused solely on Rey as she listened intently to the others’ complaints and whinging or giggling quietly as Dameron whispered something in her ear.

 

She had arrived with her usual bright smile in place, chatting animatedly with Dameron.

 

That made his lips tighten and an unpleasant feeling rear up his sternum, especially as he remembered how he had essentially tackled Moden Canady in his attempt to avoid her when she arrived at the track earlier.

 

That hadn’t been fun to try and explain to the furious, red-faced mechanic.

 

He forced himself to look away, shame and disgust mingling together unpleasantly, absolutely determined not to give her another glance for the rest of the weekend. Snoke was right, he needed his focus here where it mattered.

 

That commitment lasted nearly a whole minute.

 

From the moment she walked into the room he seemed keenly aware of her, and his gaze seemed pulled back again and again to her, as if by some invisible string. Until he finally gave up his earlier promise altogether and stopped fighting that steel-clad thread.

 

“Do you want to chill maybe?” He hears murmured from his left.

 

He tears his eyes away. Phasma’s giving him an odd, stiff scrutinising look, she glances pointedly at his clenched fists before refocusing her rigid attention back onto Calrissian at the front.

 

He forces himself to relax and look indifferent, something he’d always struggled with without the aid of a helmet. He’d always been too easy to read. By his mother, his uncle, Snoke. They all seemed able to see right through him with a single glance. His father was exempt though, he didn’t seem to notice anything, or was wilfully ignorant.

 

“What?” He replies testily.

 

“You look like you’re trying to burn a hole through her.” She replies out the corner of her mouth without breaking her gaze, voice brittle with thinly veiled disdain.

 

Kylo truly hoped his pale skin wasn’t shading an ugly colour of red and was very grateful for his hair covering his ears at that moment.

 

Was he really being that obvious?

 

“What did she do to you?” Phasma asks quietly, an analysing tone adhering to her voice.

 

“Nothing,” Kylo replies waspishly. “The colour of their hats is offensive.”

 

Phasma says nothing but he feels her eyes shift onto him, tracking his movements intently. He wonders if she’ll find this interesting enough to mention to Snoke and the sudden thought releases a flutter of anxiety in his chest.

 

He makes an active effort to keep his eyes on Calrissian and to follow the conversation but every now and then he finds them drawn back to where she’s sitting, not to the cap she wears but to the chestnut hair done up in that strange bun style beneath it, some loose tendrils brush the nape of her neck and jawbone as her hazel eyes take in each comment with patience.

 

The droning meeting finally comes to an end and he follows Phasma out of the room, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with anyone.

 

They had a free hour for lunch back at the garage before Snoke would want them to go through their findings and be informed of any developments from the morning’s meetings from other departments.

 

The idea of being in a room with Phasma and Snoke and Hux seems too much to endure, especially with Hux and Snoke’s waspish comments about Canada still coming in hot and fast.

 

“I’m gonna check out the other team’s set ups before lunch.”

 

She gives him a judging look but raises a single eyebrow seemingly in replacement of a shrug.

 

“Suit yourself,” Phasma replies coolly, barely finishing the sentence before turning and walking away.

 

* * *

 

Well that hadn’t exactly gone as planned.

 

After settling into Resistance’s pit and her earlier missed opportunity to catch up with Ben, Rey had been eager to reach the meeting early on the off chance he might be there. Unfortunately, a horde of fans and a very unconcerned Poe meant they only just made it to the briefing before Lando strode through and to the front.

 

Rey had tried to make eye contact with Ben but he seemed utterly oblivious to her attempts and not without a little disappointment she settled in for the briefing, listening as Lando discussed how the new rules for the track would affect them and the other drivers’ experiences on the circuit.

 

By the time the meeting finished she was completely overwhelmed by all the information and barely noticed Ben follow Phasma speedily out the door.

 

She’s stepping out of the building as she notices Ben’s tall, hulking frame going in a different direction to Phasma. A zing of hope beams through her; maybe the day isn’t over quite yet…

 

“You know what, I would really like to have a glance around the track,” she pipes up quickly to Poe. “You go on, make sure there’s some lunch saved for me,” she continues when she sees him open his mouth to reply.

 

He looks in thought for a moment but the mention of food sells him on the idea.

 

“No guarantees! If Chewie’s around you _know_ there’s not much I can do for you! Don’t take too long!”

 

And she’s alone.

 

Rey hurries in the direction she saw Ben go before she loses his trail. She skirts around a gaggle of reporters finishing up an interview with Maz as she passes the Kanata area, taking a wider route lest they spot her. As much as Rey loves Maz, she really doesn’t have time to spare for any profound advice the woman might impart on her. Luckily for her Maz has enough authority to demand the reporters’ full attention. No one even notices Rey slide on past and when she risks a glance back to make sure she’s in the clear she could swear Maz gives her a wink.

 

Emboldened, she carries on.

 

She takes a quick stock of her surroundings having lost sight of Ben... but there!

 

Just a bit ahead his tall figure is examining the Fett team’s pit set up. He turns his head in her direction and Rey quickly waves trying to get his attention but he turns back and continues on before his gaze reaches her.

 

Oh.

 

Slightly disheartened but certainly not yet dissuaded Rey takes off at a brisk walk determined to catch him up.

 

Ben turns toward a building and swiftly steps inside, letting the navy door shut behind him. Rey follows, her heartbeat increasing at the prospect of seeing him face to face for some reason.

 

She pulls open the door moments later and…

 

An empty corridor greets her.

 

Ben’s nowhere in sight with zero indication of which direction he went in. White doors line the corridor and tentatively Rey tries turning the handle of one but it’s locked.

 

A sudden bout of self-consciousness hits her as she realises where exactly she is and what she’s essentially doing.

 

In the Director’s building... stalking another competitor.

 

Then again what did Ben even have to do in here-? Nope. Not going down that track. Who knows, maybe he had a meeting with the stewards. Perhaps he didn’t see her and had prior commitments. Maybe he saw her and didn’t feel like chatting right now. It doesn’t matter, it’s not _her_ business, she tries to reason.

 

“Rey!”

 

A distant voice cuts through her clamouring mind and she whirls on the doorstep of the mammoth building.

 

Korrie is waving at her from across the paddock a bright smile on her face as she and Kaydel stop to wait for her.

 

Suitably mollified at her current predicament, Rey accepts that today is probably not the day she’ll speak to Ben as she makes her way directly across the paddock, hoping her failure in this endeavour would mean she might at very least get to scoff down some lunch.

 

* * *

 

Friday

 

Friday doesn’t go much better.

 

A chat. Just a single short chat with Ben Solo. It’s not a lot to ask for, is it? Apparently it is, and she’s getting the distinct feeling that he is actually trying to avoid her.

 

Thankfully, the weekend schedule forces her mind off Ben as practice gets underway, the day centres around those two free practice sessions to get oriented on the track… and to see who the favourites for the podiums are.

 

Rey’s sessions go smoothly, her car handling the track well, flying around corners with a couple of decent straights for her to let loose. She isn’t the only one doing well though, Rogue cars are pulling up impressive times and Force One are faster than Jedi, surprising the crowd, but Ben sets competitive times lap after lap in his sleek Silencer, with Phasma close behind. Yet, even still, every time Ben sets a time Poe is right behind him beating it.

 

The ruthless part of Rey gets a bit of satisfaction out of her teammate putting Ben in his place, particularly after how difficult he’s been to track down the last couple of days.

 

It might be that same part of her that takes control after the day's sessions are finished, determination and adrenalin still coursing through her as she settles her car in for the evening.

 

She has a solid two hours to clean up before their sponsor dinner with Blue Energy Drinks and she is _determined_ to get a moment with a certain Solo before then.

 

She scuttles off as soon as possible, bee lining for the First Order pit where Ben will still be looking over his race car with an intense scrutiny, she thinks, rolling her eyes almost fondly.

 

Her bright orange jumpsuit isn’t exactly discreet but she tries to stay as innocuous as possible as she takes up her post in an alley nearby First Order and just before the Operations building that every driver will have to pass through to leave for the day. It’s a risk but she thinks she can handle laying low and avoiding notice.

 

Her heart stutters as a driver in white strides past, followed by another a few lengths back, but neither glance in her direction and she lets out a calming breath.

 

She waits long enough that the adrenalin begins to fade and she starts to realise just how crazy this plan truly is as driver after driver passes her when finally, heavy footfalls approach and a tall figure in a black jumpsuit walks past, dark hair swaying in the breeze.

 

Well, here goes nothing, Rey thinks brazenly, launching herself out of her alleyway behind the figure.

 

“Hey!”

 

It would be an understatement to say that Ben’s figure goes tense, it does, his flinch and rapid turn make him stumble but he slaps a hand on the side of the Ops building gasping loudly.

 

“Jesus!”

 

Whoops.

 

“What the hell are you doing?" He grumbles. "You can’t just jump out at people like that!” 

 

A quiet sort of indignation flares in Rey despite how amusing she finds his reaction.

 

“Well if you hadn’t tried so hard to avoid me then I wouldn’t have had to scare you half to death,” she replies coolly.

 

Under his mussed curls she sees the tips of his ears go red.

 

The bastard! I knew it!

 

“What?” She teases. “Not even going to deny it?”

 

He only shrugs in return.

 

“What’s there to talk about?” He mumbles.

 

The rational voice in her head agrees with him. 'Yes, what is there to really talk about and why are you so eager to act like a fool to see him, hmm?'

 

She steadfastly ignores it.

 

She gets the distinct feeling he doesn’t want to touch on Canada again so she doesn’t… for now, she promises, it can wait for another time.

 

“You drove really well today,” Rey replies honestly, but she only gets a cynical look in return.

 

“I placed the second best time… in practice rounds,” he says disdainfully.

 

“You still drove beautifully,” she continues, determined, “it looked like you were flying across the track.”

 

He looks slightly abashed by that, if he’s even capable of looking so.

 

“It’s still second,” comes his stubborn reply.

 

Rey rolls her eyes.

 

“Jesus,” she mutters, “you are impossible.”

 

But suddenly there’s a light to his eyes, like he’s finally about to get into their conversation and snark back at her. He takes a step closer, forcing her to look up at him, a thrill of excitement purrs through her.

 

“Says the Scavenger,” he replies, his deep voice dragging the words.

 

“Says the future World Champion actually,” Rey corrects airily.

 

They’re close, she can feel his breath fanning on her face as her nerves spark, and a deep, dark pull surges through her keenly.

 

She feels her heart rate increase at the thought of a snark battle, but another voice cuts through before Ben can provide a rejoinder.

 

“Rey?”

 

Their heads whip around to find Poe, taking in their proximity, his brow furrowed in concern.

 

Goddammit Poe!

 

Rey really tries to not let her frustration show, she really tries.

 

“You okay, Rey?” His voice is much more controlled than she’s ever heard it before as Ben straightens from their closeness to meet Poe’s steely gaze.

 

“Poe. I’m fine.” Rey grits out, trying to make him get the message.

 

But whatever message she tries to send, clearly isn’t received as he settles his arms across his chest and sets his stance in place.

 

She could scream in frustration.

 

“Dameron,” Ben says stiffly.

 

“…Ren,” Poe replies.

 

Rey tries to make eye contact with him again to reassure him but he refuses to meet her gaze, his eyes locked distastefully on Poe as they size each other up, trying to wait the other out.

 

Suddenly Ben turns on his heel and stalks away.

 

“What the hell, Poe?” Rey asks exasperatedly after he’s out of sight.

 

Poe looks away from Ben’s receding figure, surprise registered on his face.

 

“Rey, what are you-?”

 

“You know that was really rude, right?”

 

“Rud-? To him? He was practically on top of you, you don’t need to put up with that, you know!”

 

“Poe,” she begins in frustration, “it wasn't like tha- look I appreciate the gesture but I can handle myself.”

 

“But you shouldn’t have to,” he replies confused.

 

It’s very sweet but Rey can’t help feeling incredibly irritated at it for some reason.

 

“Forget it, I have to get ready, thanks but seriously, I’m all good.”

 

She follows Ben’s path out of the arena, her frustration beginning to brim over.

 

* * *

 

Saturday 23rd June – Qualifiers

 

It’s not a nice day. The sun has disappeared behind clouds but there’s no threat of rain, just an uncomfortable feeling that permeates the air and resides uneasily inside her chest.

 

The rest of Friday hadn’t been what you could call top notch.

 

The sponsor dinner was awkward, neither Rey or Poe prompting for conversation resulting in awkward gaps of silence filled with cutlery scraping plates and glasses tinging as they are picked up and put down.

 

Han was at a complete loss but he couldn’t even use his usual blunt demeanour to cut through the tension between Rey and Poe, not in front of the sponsors.

 

It wasn’t until Rey excused herself for a reprieve in the form of a bathroom trip only to find Poe waiting for her as she exited.

 

He got straight to the point.

 

“Rey, I feel like it’s my duty to warn you-.”

 

“Poe you really don’t have to-,” she tried to cut him off icily.

 

“No I do,” he barrelled on. “You don’t understand, you haven’t been on the circuit that long, I thought you realised that Ren’s not a good guy, I know you just want to see the best in people but for some that just isn’t possible. I _raced_ with him, I _know_ him and I’m telling you he is bad news.”

 

There was silence for a few moments that he seems to expect Rey to fill; agreeing and thanking him for his service but her anger seemed to have wrapped itself around every muscles, leaving her motionless and rigid.

 

“Is that all?” She replied. “Can we go back to dinner now?”

 

“What? Rey. I’m trying to help you here.”

 

“No. You’re trying to make decisions for me.”

 

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to get hurt by- well whatever that was,” exasperation coming off him in waves.

 

“Why because I’m so sweet and naive and therefore I can’t understand what terrible things people are capable of?”

 

“I- that’s not what I meant-…”

 

Maybe it was unreasonable, but all her frustrations; at Ben, at her performances, at Poe for mollycoddling her, at Plutt for teaching her how to recognise true monsters, at herself _for being_ so unreasonable, reached the surface and there was no putting them back down in that moment.

 

“No? I think maybe it was, you see me as some little weak thing that needs all the guidance and condescension there is-”

 

“Rey, I-.”

 

“-just so you can feel like you’re in control and know what’s best for everyone-,”

 

“-that’s not wh-.”

 

“- but I know people too, I know what they’re capable of and you’ve got Ben wrong.”

 

Poe was silent for a few moments, starring at her.

 

“Ben…” he said quietly, like it’s a sound he hadn’t properly in a long time, he moved back slightly, removing the proximity they had created arguing. “Rey, I’m not trying to chew you out or anything… I just- he’s dangerous, Rey and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

 

Her rage had reduced to a simmer but it still refused to let her accept his words, however they were meant.

 

“I don’t believe that,” she replied softer but finally, stepping around him and striding back towards their table.

 

A soft brush of wind trails some loose hair across the nape of her neck, bringing her back to the present. The track is in full swing; everyone preparing for the final free practice session before lunch and qualifiers in the afternoon. Officials are bustling around trying to get everything sorted and make sure there are no hiccups as parts and wheels are transported to where they need to be all across the pits.

 

But she can’t quite get into the swing of today, yesterday still hanging about like the clouds overhead, tainting the day before it really begins.

 

After a less than adequate sleep, tossing and turning, overthinking how everyone seemed to judge Ben without giving him a chance and plain and simple frustration, most of the night, a knock on her hotel door had interrupted her prep this morning. Opening it she found Greer, Han’s assistant, with a pursed expression and a tablet in her hands showing today’s news headlines.

 

The sinking feeling really hit her then.

 

Someone in the restaurant had snapped a picture of Poe and Rey arguing, thankfully there was no video and no one actually knew what was going on… but that just left it open to speculation really. And speculate the tabloids did. In a single article Greer showed her Rey and Poe were apparently competing for the top spot in Resistance, they were in the midst of a pay dispute, they were lovers having a quarrel, she was jealous of his past relationships with men, and last but not least, one of them was leaving the team.

 

“It will blow over but Han wants to have a talk with you both about it, the team can’t afford to have divisions, especially not just before a big race.” Greer had told her in a calm, soothing voice. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked kindly.

 

Rey had just shaken her head numbly, she knew the press could be brutal, it always was if women were involved, “they can’t quite get past the idea of using us as easy targets” Greer had told her a long while ago, but it didn’t stop her feeling ashamed that she had brought this unwanted attention onto the team.

 

“Okay,” Greer replied. “Now if the press does decide they want to grill you this morning, this is what we’ll do…”

 

“Where the _hell_ is Hux!?” A deep voice bellows, jolting Rey back to reality, realising her unfocused mind had drifted from the track yet again.

 

Her feet have brought her to the edge of the First Order pits by their own accord.

 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a Motor Hutt worker moves past her carrying a stack of oil cans and booklets.

 

She’s less recognisable in her normal Resistance get-up, not yet prepped in her racing jumpsuit but still she’s risking a lot, if the cameras catch her it will only add fuel to the fire that is the press fervour and get them closer to the truth. But she needs to talk to Ben, just to make sure at least one friendship isn’t in tatters right now. She’s done jumping out of shadows to accost him. If he wants to talk he can meet her halfway.

 

He strides out of the pits, his shouts preceding him.

 

His tall, bulky figure wrapped in the black of his jumpsuit is an intimidating thing and she’s not surprised that the mechanics he approaches quail slightly.

 

“Where the hell is Hux?” He repeats. “We were supposed to go over the strategy changes two hours ago.”

 

The mechanics stutter.

 

“Find him,” Kylo orders and they scamper off. He seems to feel her gaze on him as he takes a moment to look around, a look of confusion registering on his face when he meets her eyes. But then he cocks his head towards the shadowed alley between the First Order and Hutt garages. She moves off towards it and waits.

 

92 seconds later he appears from the opposite side, stepping down the narrow laneway.

 

“Hi,” she greets him softly.

 

“What do you want?” Comes his blunt reply.

 

There’s a coldness to him again, like she remembered from when they first met but a numbness that joins it this time, no sense of competitive fire with it. He just seems tired.

 

Rey swallows.

 

“I’m sorry about Poe, he shouldn’t ha-,”

 

“Maybe you should listen to him. We are competitors after all.”

 

“What?” This isn’t how it was meant to go. “Ben, stop it, he doesn’t know you like I d-”

 

“He does know me, as I’m sure he’s taken the time to enlighten you he knows me better than probably any of the other drivers here. Better than you do.”

 

“Yes, but people can change-,”

 

Hurried footsteps get louder, they both look to the end of the alleyway he appeared from as a figure rushes past the opening, not even glancing in at them, an orange blur hurrying to complete final checks.

 

Ben looks back at her.

 

“Will this take much longer? I’ve still got a lot of prep to do.”

 

“Ben? What are you- I thought we were friends?”

 

He doesn’t meet her eyes.

 

“No, we’re competitors, and I hope you haven’t got the wrong idea but it’s important that you understand that.” He continues bluntly. “You race for Resistance. I race for First Order. We cannot be friends.”

 

She stands in front of him in shocked silence for a few moments but he doesn’t leave either.

 

“Fine, if you want to act like a child, that’s just fine.” She takes a step closer, wanting to shake him until he stopped acting so dim. “But I am your friend, so when you finally get your head out of your arse come find me.”

 

With that she whirls away, heading back to her team’s garage where Poe’s prep will be well underway and hers about to begin.

 

She hears a muttered curse behind her but she doesn’t look back, striding past the Hutt garage and Kanata pits next to Resistance. She’s right, Poe is getting in his X-Wing, the fuel line still attached, with mechanics and engineers floating around completing final checks before the final practice begins.

 

Heavy footfalls hurry behind her but she still doesn’t turn, hurt and rejection from the whole weekend still coursing through her.

 

“Rey wait-,” is all he gets out before there's a short _whoomf_ followed by another louder _whoomf_ and flames surge upwards out of Resistance’s garage fanning out from under the cockpit of Poe's racer and hitting the roof of the building before catching on the spilling petrol as shouts of shock go up and the crew wrench away from the heat.

 

Before Rey can react any more than widen her eyes she’s yanked back, out of the line of heat as the wave surges past and when she opens her eyes Ben’s frame crowds over her.

 

There’s no time to thank him even if she wasn’t in direct danger from the flames, Rey pushes out of his vice-like grip and lurches towards Poe’s car.

 

“Poe?!” She yells, fear constricting her voice when she doesn’t immediately spot her team mate.

 

Fire crews and Resistance personnel are aiming extinguishing foam at the racer, filling the air with a hazy white as it smothers down the red and orange blaze.

 

There!

 

Poe’s crouching off to the side having managed to scramble out of his car, protected by the layers of fire resistant fabric he has on.

 

“Poe! Are you alright?!” Rey yells as she races towards him, embracing him when he straightens. He looks generally okay, despite some smoke still wafting off his foamy jumpsuit.

 

He nods coughing up some dirty air but before he can respond there’s a loud cry behind them.

 

Fear grips around Rey’s heart as she and Poe wrench towards the sound.

 

Rose.

 

She’s kneeling on the ground next to a prone Paige a medic already attending the engineer, a nasty raw burn seared across her cheek.

 

It’s then that Rey becomes aware of the cameras milling around their garage trying to document the carnage and what has caused it.

 

She rushes forward reaching for Rose, trying to block her from intrusive eyes as another few medics arrive on the scene and begin the process of getting Paige to hospital.

 

Rose’s eyes follow her sister as she’s placed on a stretcher a moan escaping through her gritted teeth as she shifts. She seems like she could be in shock shifting from trancelike state to horrified sobs, all Rey can do is hold her tight as the medics finish securing Paige and take her towards a waiting ambulance. Rose stills when she sees this gulping down a breath of air before seeming to come clear in her mind and follow straight on and up into the ambulance without a word.

 

Rey and Poe watch as the ambulance starts away, the siren blaring and not long after she and Poe are hustled away from the charred X-Wing dripping foam from it’s frame as it smokes.

 

She looks down the pits searching for Ben’s long, pale face but if he’s there he’s swallowed in the sea of people crowding for a look.

 

* * *

 

The practice session goes on, teams peeling out of pits to get time on the track, but no cars from Resistance emerge. Poe unable to after being whisked away to the hospital for checks and Rey is prohibited while an initial investigation is conducted, officials trying to ascertain the cause and make sure it won’t happen again. Once the Qualifiers arrive, Rey is permitted to continue, a skeleton crew of mechanics prepping her as the bulk of the team begin striping Poe’s Number 8 down to essentially rebuild it.

 

She manages to get through to the second round of qualifies but not the third, placing 11th on the grid for tomorrow and giving the team an even smaller chance of gaining a podium.

 

Once free she meets Finn at the Falcon, Rey scrambles into the passenger side, as an uncharacteristically subdued Finn peels the pickup out of the arena towards the hospital.

 

She can sense his worry in the silence as the sun begins to descend, casting longer shadows on Finn’s uneasy face as he guides the rumbling car onward.

 

“Are you alright, Finn?”

 

Her voice seems to bring him out of a reverie, as though he had barely registered she was there.

 

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He replies, clearly rattled. “You?”

 

“Yeah same,” she lies about as well as he did. “I guess just worried, you know.”

 

Finn nods but lapses back into another uneasy silence.

 

“Poe’s fine, he’s been discharged, you know,” Rey tries gently again. “Greer said they only took him as a precaution.”

 

“I know,” he says.

 

Another silence.

 

“I just- I feel like,” Finn starts haltingly, “today could have been so much worse… and if it had… then I wouldn’t have ever had a chance to, you know, to tell...”

 

Another silence.

 

“Tell him how you feel?” Rey offers quietly.

 

Finn looks over at her in surprise.

 

“Wait, you know?”

 

Rey has to laugh at that.

 

“Finn, I think even Threepio knows,” she deadpans.

 

“It’s just- I know I have to do something… or I’ll always regret it but it’s terrifying, what if he doesn’t feel the same… or it changes things? I don’t want to lose everything.”

 

“Finn,” she responds seriously. “Surely you know. C’mon, Poe flirts with you _hard_.”

 

“He does that with everyone,” Finn waves her away.

 

“Nooo, he’s _charming_ to everyone but he actually tries with you.”

 

Finn’s brow furrows at that.

 

“Look, Peanut,” she tries more soothingly, “it’s not really my place to get involved but _so what_ if things change? Things might change for the better! And if not… then you always have me.” She pauses but he’s still quiet. “Like you said; do you want to be old and have a bucket load of regrets because you were too scared to try?”

 

Finn makes a noncommittal sound. “It’s just… hard I guess. I’ve never had much experience with relationships… I’ve always been too busy trying to get out of wherever I was.”

 

Now that’s something Rey can relate to.

 

She gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze and leaves him to his thoughts the rest of the way to the hospital. On arrival, it wasn’t difficult to find their friends, with most of the crew already discharged.

 

Rey and Finn hurry along the bright, clinical corridor towards Paige’s room, halting at the door as Paige, Rose and Poe come into view.

 

“Hey,” Poe gets up from his chair to greet them, “long time n- oof!”

 

All the air is knocked from him as Finn barrels forward and grips him in a tight hug.

 

Rey gives them some space, moving to embrace Rose and give Paige’s hand a gentle squeeze.

 

“Hey, how are you doing?” Rey asks her quietly.

 

She has a bandage covering a burn on her cheek and another around her head but other than that she seems to be in good spirits.

 

“Oh fine, it’s worse than it looks,” Paige brushes off. “Apparently I’ll have a cool scar, chicks dig scars,” she says happily.

 

“She’s still on a few meds,” Rose explains. “They’re just keeping her overnight for the concussion.”

 

“ _Mild_ concussion,” Paige throws back making Rose roll her eyes.

 

“Yeah, not even a fireball will stop Paige from ordering us around long,” Poe comments from behind them. His voice a bit raspier than usual but otherwise he looks good, although the usual glint in his eyes is dimmed slightly.

 

He meets Rey’s gaze and inclines his head to towards the corridor, Finn moves around to greet Paige as they step quietly from the room.

 

Rey takes a deep breath, guilt settling in as she turns to face Poe.

 

“I’m glad you’re oka-,” she begins but he holds a hand up to stop her.

 

“Rey,” he starts sincerely, “look, I shouldn’t have said those things yesterday. I do trust you, I need you to know that.”

 

Her chest fills with warmth.

 

“Poe, I know, and I know you were just trying to look out for me-,”

 

“I thought it might be a nice change,” he quips.

 

“-and I’m _grateful_. I really am. Until you guys took me in… I never had that… and I guess it’s something that I’m just not used to yet.”

 

“It’s okay, you were right, ya know. I keep thinking I need to protect you from everyone still, but I trust your judgment even if I don’t agree about Ren,” he puts his hands up in surrender, “I just want you to be careful.”

 

They smile hesitantly at each other, feeling like they’ve finally met somewhere in the middle.

 

“How’s my baby doing?” Poe asks apprehensively, changing the subject.

 

Rey grimaces. “It’s bad, but they’re working on her,” she offers optimistically.

 

The weekend looked like it was going so well for Resistance that no one had had the foresight to give their reserve driver a go on the practices before the incident and investigation and therefore he couldn’t race the qualifiers in Poe’s place, meaning Poe would start from the back of the grid tomorrow.

 

“Poor BB-8,” he moans sadly.

 

Rey gives his arm a comforting rub when someone clears their throat near them.

 

They both look over to Finn who has a strangely focused glint in his eyes.

 

“Well…” Rey fumbles slightly, “I’ll just go back in,” she excuses herself slyly, smiling as she closes the door and hurries over to the girls who look fully ready to interrogate her within an inch of her life.

 

* * *

 

Sunday 24th June - French Grand Prix

 

Rey.

 

It seemed that was all his mind could supply come Sunday morning.

 

His sleep had been fitful and disturbed, with her flitting across his vision, always striding towards an intangible danger and all the while he couldn’t reach her. He saw her standing on a podium waving and smiling and he yelled to her but she couldn’t hear him over the thick, shrieking mass of people pulling and clawing him down and down until he was buried beneath them. He saw her run across an alley way, an orange blur with a smile, but when he chased after her the alleyway got smaller and smaller, scraping and crushing him until he couldn’t move. He saw her standing in the garage and he called to her but he was gagged and he always had been, sinking into the melting tarmac as the garage went up in flames and there was only darkness left. Darkness and someone, the only thing left, someone breathing icy air onto his neck.

 

He woke up gasping, sweat soaking his hair.

 

He couldn’t avoid her any longer.

 

It had been difficult, more difficult than he had thought it would be to keep a distance between them. In Canada she had seen too much; enough that he knew he needed to keep her at bay… but yesterday, what if she had been in the garage, what if it had been worse?

 

Avoiding her was clearly not working.

_“When you finally get your head out of your arse come find me.”_

 

Hadn’t that been her expression for it?

 

* * *

 

Turns out, finding someone who doesn’t want to be found is a lot more difficult than Kylo had anticipated. Within a few hours he’s feeling a hefty amount of guilt for putting Rey through the run around the last few days, even stooping so low as walking slowly behind some Resistance fans chatting in hushed tones about the events of yesterday in a sad attempt to pick up any information on where Rey might be.

 

Needless to say he emerged none the wiser after enduring one of them go into immense detail about how in love Rey and Dameron were as their fight was forgotten in the face of true peril and she ran bravely to his aid.

 

He couldn’t deny that he’d felt a jealous twitch in his chest after hearing that, despite knowing just how uninterested Dameron would be in Rey, just as the rest of the racing community and fan base knew, but, of course, nothing gets in the way of a good story for some people.

 

Eventually it’s in the most obvious place Ren finds her… and also the least appealing place to him.

 

Han’s old rust bucket of a car seems to always be a gathering point for most of the Resistance staff. He finds himself awkwardly standing in the shadows as he tries to figure out how he can talk to her without having to go near Han, Dameron and anyone else in the team who would spit at him if he so much as glanced in Rey’s direction.

 

That car, a constant companion throughout Han’s career, the 1973 Dodge pickup that somehow became knows as the Falcon went everywhere with Han just as it had since the '70s. Everyone knew it from the famous photograph, the one he was reminded of everytime he laid his eyes on the heap of junk. The one of Han and Skywalker in 1987 after Han won the Champions Trophy and he and Skywalker won the Constructors Trophy for Rebellion. Han’s driving the Falcon out of the arena, his arm propped on the seat, his trophy dangling carelessly from his finger tips. Leia in the passenger seat, laughing and Skywalker standing triumphantly in the pickup bed, the Constructors trophy thrust high in the air. They’re all beaming and a crowd is running behind and around the car. He doesn’t remember when that photo changed for him, but he remembers happily looking at it and taking it in for hours on end. A few years later he realised they’d never looked that happy around him. It was taken less than two years before his birth.

 

Movement catches his eye as Rey hops out of the pickup bed turning to hug her friend, the one called Finn. She begins in the direction of the Resistance pits, presumably to start her preparation so he heads in the same direction, catching her as she passes into the alley way.

 

“Rey, wait,” he says, hating the desperation he can plainly hear in his own voice.

 

She stills, taking a moment before she turns to face him. The pause fills him with a trepidation he didn’t realise such a small movement could cause, but she faces him resolutely nonetheless.

 

“Are you alright?” He asks cautiously.

 

“I’m fine,” she replies shortly not meeting his gaze.

 

For a moment he’s hovering, uncertain.

 

“Is everyone else okay?”

 

She looks up at that, meeting his eyes. Her hazel eyes full of something he can’t quite place. Whatever it is the anger seems to be drifting away, she even smiles; although its tiny and barely there, it feels like success.

 

“A few mild burns but everyone will be okay.”

 

“Do they know what happened yet?”

 

She sighs, looking downhearted.

 

“It looks like a computer error… the pump rate for the petrol was calculated way too high, it started spilling into the engine and when Poe started the car it caught.”

 

“Wouldn’t that be human error?” Ren replies quickly, brow furrowed.

 

“Well you’d think so but at the time the calculation changed the technician was helping attach the fuel line to the car, the computer must have faulted somehow, they’re still looking into it.”

 

Kylo can’t help but think maybe Resistance failing to see their own incompetence but he wisely keeps his thoughts to himself, nodding and then there’s silence. She’s not giving him anything for nothing today, that’s for sure.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

“I’m sorry.” He begins, “I was being an idiot. I haven’t- I’m not- People aren’t exactly my strong suit. They don’t usually mean what they say. They lie and they leave. But… yesterday, the car and the garage. It would be worse if I couldn’t- if you had- I thought it would be better if you stayed away and we weren’t friends. For both of us, but I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

 

There’s a strange look in her eyes, like she’s shocked by him apologising but it quickly makes way for a softer look. Pity maybe, yet it doesn’t revolt him. It’s a pity from someone who has felt it too and that makes it a bit less horrifying.

 

“It’s okay,” she says. “And I am your friend, although it would make it a heck of a lot easier to do that if you _let_ me be your friend.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“It would also make it easier if I didn’t have to stalk you down to have a conversation,” she continues pointedly.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly again and she laughs, a sound like warm honey.

 

“It’s okay,” Rey repeats. “Do you have a phone?”

 

“Uh, not on me,” Kylo admits, the only people who really use it to contact him are work people so it’s not what he’d call his most prized possession.

 

She rolls her eyes, humour glinting in the pretty colours, as she pulls out her phone, opening in up.

 

“Here,” she offers him the phone after a moment and he takes it, careful not to drop it.

 

‘Grumpy Git’ it reads as a New Contact.

 

He takes a moment to raise his eyebrows at her and shoot her a look that says _‘really?’_ but nonetheless he puts his number in, he kind of deserves it if he’s honest.

 

He offers it back to her and her fingers brush his sending tendrils of energy shooting through his veins.

 

“Good luck in the race.”

 

A warm grin appears on her face.

 

“You too,” she replies breathily.

 

* * *

 

When the F1s speed around the final corner and under the gantry Rey finishes fourth, sure it’s great, but it still feels like she’s _just_ missed out. _Just_ slipped out of the podiums. _Just_ can’t emulate her debut performance.

 

Still, it’s 12 points for her and Resistance and with Poe’s car succumbing in the 14th Lap, the damage simply too much to repair in one night, it’s all the team has from this race.

 

The race didn’t change much in the lower part of the leader board, but the top three had shifted, with Poe moving from first to third and Ben and Andor moving into first and second.

 

The Constructors Championship also changed… with Poe and herself losing their 3-point lead to First Order, who now lead the rankings by 25.

 

But despite all that, when Ben comes in first and stands on the podium next to Cassian and Phasma, a silver trophy grasped in his hands, looking haughty – no, not haughty… _uncomfortable_ at the attention - she feels confusingly… proud?

 

What the hell is with that?

 

Maybe it’s not even for him, she rationalises, Andor came second and we’re pretty good friends soo it’s probably him I feel proud of… right?

 

She tries to ignore the fact that it sounds like utter bullshit, as much of a lie as pretending she hadn’t nearly melted when Ben turned his molten look on her and wished her luck with the slightest of half smiles, the sun catching his hair and the deep, rich browns in his dark locks shining through for a moment, just like it was doing now.

 

Oh.

 

Crap.

 

She’s really in deep now.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:          133

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:           124

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:   116

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                    85

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:  80

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:        72

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:      49

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                         38

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:               38

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:               36

Garth Maul - Sith:                            20

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                  10

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:   4

Mace Windu - Jedi:                           4

Baze Malbus - Force One:                3

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:        2

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                      1

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:      1

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                    1

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                  1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly so sorry it took so long for this update, but if you are still with me then thank you and I very much hope you enjoyed! xx


	8. Spielberg, Austria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quick move from France to Austria doesn't give the teams much time to breathe but a dangerous incident in France helps Ben put parts of his life in perspective and Rey realises she might be in danger of feeling a little more than friendship for Ben.

Friday 1st July

 

Rey has had exactly two crushes in her life.

 

The first was on Collin William; the national weather reporter who appeared on the TV on the odd occasion that Plutt actually watched the news. He’d had a cheeky, boyish attitude and a lightness to his segments that 9-year-old Rey was immediately smitten with. Some evenings she’d crouch in the dingy hallway with her fingers crossed tightly, giddily wishing for Plutt to make it through to Collin’s segment to see what part of the UK he’d travelled to that day.

 

Her second crush was less harmless. Darcy Mathews was the most popular boy in Year 5. He always seemed able to get out of any trouble he found himself in, like one of those roguish heroes from those adventure-seeking pirate books she had read. He was always surrounded by friends; something Rey couldn’t quite emulate, with her old bag and frayed, faded uniform. Any friends she made always seemed to be poor like her and would soon have to move on to somewhere else, leaving her alone again. But when Darcy showed an interest in Rey after she outran him at a recess break she had been over the moon, full of excitement for what was surely about to be a new start with lots of new friends. She could still remember running home to the junkyard sobbing after she met him at the forest near the school yard only to have a pack of his friends jump out and pelt her with rubbish.

 

Plutt had been in a particularly foul mood that day, she remembers vaguely.

 

For some reason Plutt had been on her mind a lot recently. He’d appeared in her sleep more often the nights after the French GP; reminding her that her parents would never come back for _her_ , a tiny, scrappy piece of nothing, mocking her for believing Darcy Mathews could ever love someone like her. The last part had never happened. Even as a 10-year-old she hadn’t been foolish enough to run to Plutt with her tears.

 

Although, almost as a consolation… another person had appeared in her dreams the last few nights, ones that made her blush and wake with a fluttering feeling in her belly and damp undergarments.

 

Waking up on Friday; a day of free practice rounds and meetings for the Austrian GP, she could barely contain the impulsive, ill feeling zinging through her making her want to chase and capture the clouds on the hills one moment and hide beneath her bed and bite her nails down to nothing the next. 

 

Regardless… that sense of anxiety remained; surely responsible for her disturbed dreams - not the ones to do with a certain tall, dark haired driver. There was something else…

 

She had a feeling she knew what it was about.

 

Home.

 

Or… the closest thing to home she could call it.

 

Next weekend would be Silverstone.

 

Her home race.

 

Just the thought of the track brought back memories of sitting in the empty grand stand, gazing out over the flat green expanse, interrupted by the winding circuit and old RAF runways from WWII, flocks of sheep dotting the pastures in the distance.

 

It would be a simple transit for Resistance being only a town over in Milton Keynes but the track just held too many variables for her.

 

What if people from her past turned up… sure, it wouldn’t be so bad if Darcy Mathews saw her claim pole position, but that wasn’t who she was worried about. Plutt hadn’t exactly taken kindly to her leaving home and while she was protected within the Resistance grounds from the public… the Silverstone GP was open to anyone and that worried her more than she had anticipated. Not to mention, the media always turned it into a big deal when a driver raced at their home grounds. While she wasn’t the only Brit in the competition, she was the newest one, and growing up in Brackley, just a few miles from the circuit… well, she had a distinct feeling they would be keen to bring up matters best left in the past.

 

Strangely enough there was a bit of hope within the labyrinth of unease. Just a little. That maybe, just maybe…

 

No. No, there was no time to think about anything except the Austrian GP. Anything that came after, Rey took a deep steadying breath, well, she could deal with it then.

 

* * *

 

She reaches the track a few hours later with Rose and a contingent of mechanics. Strangely, Han is the first person they see. He’s been absent this week more often than not; looking troubled on heated calls and taking closed door meetings much of the whirlwind move from France to Austria, she gives him a wave but he’s preoccupied on the phone, only giving the odd grunt when necessary.

 

Poe and Finn are huddled together outside the garage, chatting intimately, Finn notices Rey and Rose approaching and jerks back slightly, flipping open his clipboard.

 

“And so – uh – that’s the general gist of the plan, any questions, no? Great!”

 

“Oooh what are you talking about?” Rose asks interestedly.

 

“Nothing, I mean- not nothing, obviously, but nothing you’d be interested in, surely,” he fumbles through the sentence.

 

Rose and Rey share a grin as Poe watches on, amused.

 

“Actually, I do have a question, Finn,” Rose starts, grinning devilishly, “why so cagey?”

 

“What?! Me? Pfft,” he looks around for help but quickly realises he’s not about to receive any, “no one’s _cagey_ -.”

 

Thankfully for him, he’s saved from answering as Han approaches, still on the phone.

 

“Hm. Okay. Yep. I’ll be there,” he hangs up. “You kids alright?”

 

“Yeah, are you, Han?” Rose asks.

 

“What? Yeah, fine, listen I’ve got to head in for a meeting but I want to check in with you two before the press conferences begin,” he says, directing the last bit to Rey and Poe.

 

“Alright, is it anything serious?” Rey asks referring to the meeting.

 

“Just a few more things on the incident last week, Lando’s on my case to get solutions.”

 

“Oh,” a sedated feeling settles over them all.

 

“Have a good practice, you lot.”

 

He strolls away and Finn excuses himself quickly, probably hoping to avoid any hard hitting questions but Rose happily tags along, sending Poe and Rey an impish wink as she chases after him.

 

“You and Finn seem close,” Rey teases Poe when they’re alone, stepping back with a light smirk.

 

He grins that boyish grin, ruffling a hand through his hair.

 

“All that flirting and in the end all it took was a near-death experience to get through his thick head.”

 

“Why on earth didn’t you think of that earlier?” Rey asks dryly.

 

“Well I’m asking myself that too…” He gets a devious look, “especially after last night, _wow_ , you shou-.”

 

Rey stuffs her fingers in her ears at lightning speed.

 

“That’s enough of that RIGHT NOW. I do not want to know any of _that_ about _my_ Peanut.” Poe chortles at her tirade. “As far as I’m concerned you and Finn hold hands and that’s the extent of things,” she replies with as much dignity as she can summon, moving off to start preparing for the practice rounds with her ears still firmly blocked.

 

* * *

 

She flows across the circuit, feeling her tyres grip the curve of the final right corner of 10 and burst onto the straight chasing the gantry ahead. The hour-long practice passed quickly as she lost herself in the flow and movement of the circuit. The Ring was beautiful, nestled in the green footholds of the Austrian Alps; deceptively simple with only 10 corners, but the elevation of the circuit meant braking would have to be timed perfectly for the 72 Laps to get around those corners, their brakes would have to work harder and tyre maintenance was sure be a central strategy point for everyone this race.

 

It’s a nice sensation to feel in control again. She doesn’t have to think about any weird feelings she has for certain people, or worry about her team after the fire last week, or about the next race… she could simply be in the moment and it felt good.

 

Her sense of calm lasts until she has to leave the sanctuary of her X-Wing and checks her phone; a habit she’d acquired this past week.

 

**Grumpy Git**

**Don’t tell me you might actually give me some competition for once.**

 

An idiotic grin overtakes her face, completely without permission, which, unfortunately, does not go unnoticed by the newly recovered Paige.

 

“Rey, what’s the matter with you?” She asks bluntly.

 

“Nothing,” Rey replies innocently and _way_ too quickly, as she tries to force down the goofy look.

 

Paige just gives her a single measured stare, one eyebrows raising slightly.

 

Oh dear. The Tico Stare.

 

She’d been on the receiving end of that look before, but when they had been grilling her about pizza toppings she just hadn’t wanted to rock the boat. What was on her phone was a whole lot more scandalous than her going against the sisters and disliking anchovies on pizza. Rey looks away, probably getting a crick in her neck with the speed she reaches, but she isn’t about to let The Tico Stare crack her today. She is not ready to spill her guts, especially when she doesn’t even _know_ if it’s a proper crush… maybe its just the situations they’d been thrown into that’d brought about these totally ridiculous, unnecessary, impractical feelings… maybe they aren’t even reciprocated.

 

That thought certainly makes her skin feel clammy.

 

Fortunately, Greer saves her skin in that moment, calling her and Poe over to the back of the garage.

 

Rey leaps on that, trying not to make it look likes she’s positively running from Paige. She’s not. That would be _utterly_ ridiculous.

 

Han appears next to Greer, looking grim.

 

Rey and Poe exchange a glance.

 

“Now, I want us to all be on the same page before the Press Conferences.”

 

“About the fire?” Poe asks, focused.

 

Han nods once.

 

“I don’t care what any of them say,” he goes on in an undertone, shooting Greer an unhappy look, “there’s something damn fishy about last weekend and I’ve tried convincing the board that there was foul play but they’re just keen to believe that it was our miscalculation, especially when Snoke’s bringing in sponsors like no tomorrow.”

 

Rey raises her eyebrows.

 

“You think First Order had something to do with it?”

 

Han’s mouth set in a firm line.

 

“I know that twisted bag of wrinkles is involved somehow. The accident has Snoke’s grimy paws all over it. No cameras my ass. He was too smug last week not to be involved. But as usual there’s nothing to tie him down to it, so we just have to make sure we don’t step out of line and hope he does.” He seems to lose some of his tension. “Well not too far out of line anyway,” he amends winking at Rey. “Now I want you both to be careful.” He carries on. “Don’t let on that we’re suspicious, Snoke already threatened a defamation lawsuit over being asked to a meeting. It won’t take much for them to bring out the big guns and we can’t afford the media adding fuel for Snoke to play with.”

 

Han takes a breath, waiting for them both to nod in response.

 

“Now go on, you’ve got your conferences.”

 

Poe nods again, moving off to join Finn in the walk to the conference room but Rey waits a moment.

 

“Do you really believe Snoke had something to do with it?” She forces herself to ask. “I know he’s mean but… is he _that_ bad?”

 

Han levels her a look, thinking it over.

 

“Snoke was racing when I was a boy… there were rumours then - about incidents, bad luck, injuries - but those days a driver didn’t have a long life expectancy anyway, it wasn’t suspicious when they happened. Everyone knew he was ruthless but then 1961… it was the final race of the season, the Italian GP, he’d already won the Championship with his points, he didn’t have to go after that car but he did.”

 

“He went for another racer purposely?”

 

“He went after his _teammate_. It looked like an accident, just a tap, just a faulty engine, just a spark. Too many little accidents for someone as rigorous as Anthony Snoke.”

 

He went after that car – sure, he probably didn’t expect to get caught up in the mess but he was prepared enough to have a decent chance at surviving. His teammate didn’t.” Rey gasps lightly. “All he’d say after was he had what it took to be a champion and the other guy didn’t.”

 

She’s silent for a moment, horrified.

 

“But… what about- erm- Kylo-” She hopes her voice doesn’t sound too desperate in this moment, “I mean Be-Ren, he’s your- your son, surely you don’t think he could be involved…?”

 

“I don’t know.” Han says honestly. “Not the boy I knew,” he swallows, “but I don’t know him anymore, so I can’t answer that,” he finishes, his voice huskier than usual.

 

Rey desperately wants to tell him. Tell him he hasn’t changed as much as he may think. That he’s kind and sweet and considerate… but she can’t… she can’t tell him how she knows without explaining everything that’s happened… and her own feelings...

 

“Go on,” Han prompts, almost kindly, “you don’t want to be late.”

 

* * *

 

“Back in France, we saw a bit of tension between you and Poe, would you like to clear up what it was all about?”

 

She sees Ben’s head turn minutely toward her. Her heart pumps louder, harder. Why on earth did they have to be lumped into the same conference?! She can barely keep her _breathing_ under control let alone focus on the questions being thrown at her.

 

So far Han didn’t have to worry much about them revealing their suspicions; a simple “investigations are still underway” had more or less countered their questions… the reporters were much more interested in the potential romance and drama.

 

“Well,” she clears her throat thinking quickly, “we’re great friends, we get along really well but it’s not to say we don’t ever have differences of opinion.”

 

“He did tweet about the dispute,” another reporter pipes up, “is it true that it was a fight over who was a bigger fan of Cardi B?”

 

 A chuckle of laughter rolls across the room at that.

 

“Well he thinks he’s a bigger fan but I know for a fact his favourite artist is Taylor Swift.” She replies not directly confirming.

 

“Fair enough too; she makes us all feel things,” Ezra throws in lightly, his blue eyes twinkling.

 

She throws him a grateful grin and the conference changes focus.

 

She tries to stay present, worrying her lower lip between her teeth to stave off wicked thoughts, yet nothing helps when she can practically feel how close Ben’s large frame is. She can’t look at him. Too aware that she might turn bright red if she did.

 

She doesn’t even hear the question but suddenly his deep voice is rumbling out.

 

“I doubt it. We can handle this weekend,” he says shortly.

 

The effect is a complete embarrassment for Rey; turns out it doesn’t matter if she’s not looking at him, her cheeks flame and her breath catches, his voice doing ridiculous things to her as she’s reminded of a certain moment in a dream she had last night.

 

“Now, Kylo, considering Resistance were at a distinct disadvantage with the incident last weekend do you think you still have as good a chance here in Austria.”

 

He hesitates a moment and for the briefest of seconds Rey’s terrified he was involved somehow.

 

“Well, it was unfortunate event,” Rey raises her eyebrows ever so slightly, that doesn’t sound like his usual ‘no cares given, no one else matters’ response, “but we know we set a competitive pace throughout last weekend so we’re confident we would have won regardless.” Rey manages to stop herself from laughing at that. “The same goes for this weekend, at least with an even playing field we’ll be able to put any doubts to bed.”

 

Oh, god, _why_ did he have to say bed?

 

An older man, his dark hair beginning to grey stands, directing his question to Rey.

 

“How are you feeling about your prospects for this race? We still haven’t seen a return to the type of form you had in Australia and one could say your critics are wondering if it was a fluke.”

 

Rey opens her mouth, ready to answer… but no words appear… she knows her answer to this question, she just has to _say_ it!

 

The reporter takes her silence as permission to continue.

 

“You always say you have a great team and practices but can’t quite convert them into podiums, do you think there is something missing that is stopping you from succeeding?”

 

Well… there goes her go to answer. She gulps trying to think what the team would want her to say, scrambling.

 

A hand brushes hers gently beneath the table. It makes her jolt physically but mercifully she doesn’t look at him as he pretends to adjust his seat. Trying to play her lurch off as a sudden idea she starts speaking whichever words cross her mind first.

 

“Well honestly… it hasn’t been an easy thing trying to live up to the race in Melbourne and I’ve probably been the hardest on myself over it. If it’s possible to boil it down to one thing… it would be me. I’m the only thing stopping myself. All I _can_ do is trust my team and trust my car. And I guess trust myself - that I can do it… but that’s not always a simple thing to do.” She finishes. “Hopefully that answered the question…?”

 

The reporter doesn’t give her anything for a moment, but then nods.

 

“All the best of luck then.”

 

An older woman with grey hair stands, addressing Ezra. And the conference continues. Her hand tingling lightly.

 

* * *

 

Saturday 30th June – Morning of the Qualifiers

 

Kylo weaves through the crowded corridor searching for the right board room. A summons to an interview was never a good sign the morning of Qualifiers.

 

He wracked his brain trying to figure out if he had done anything to merit a sanctions but nothing came to mind.

 

The door’s closed when he arrives. He’s about to try the handle when he hears Snoke’s voice on the other side, freezing him in place.

 

“If you want to bring these allegations to my feet then at least have the propriety to bring proof. _Can_ you provide any evidence for these unfounded accusations? No. I didn’t think so. Just another sad attempt to diminish my name and bring some standing back to your ineffectual team of vermin.”

 

Another voice speaks up, a deep, rich tone he can never quite separate from his childhood, despite hearing it every race briefing.

 

“Now, look here, I understand, Anthony, but we need to-,” Lando tries but Snoke cuts him off.

 

“I will not stand here to be insulted further. You _have_ no case. This is now bordering on harassment.” There’s a pause in his tirade as he lets the hissed threat hang there. “Try to better manage your team next time, Mr. Solo, perhaps that way we won’t have to endure the embarrassment of seeing you fall so low again.”

 

The door snatches open, making Ren stand rigid. Snoke steps out appraising him with the slightest ghost of a smile.

 

Lando appears behind Snoke.

 

“Ah, B-” he coughs, “uh, Kylo, thanks for coming.”

 

Further back in the room Han stands, not looking at him, seemingly quite fascinated by the plain, white walls. Ren feels himself become stonier, even less eager to enter the room.

 

“Would you like to come in, we just had a few question-.”

 

“That is inappropriate,” Snoke’s sharp voice strikes out. He’s still watching Kylo, not even turning to glance at Lando. “As this is an unofficial investigation, _due_ to the lack of evidence, we are not required to continue enduring your absurd accusations.”

 

With that, Snoke strides away, leaving Lando tiredly shaking his head. Ben stays a moment longer, almost unwilling to follow Snoke. Long enough for his father to glance over at him. The half a second of disappointment in his gaze is enough though. Kylo turns and strides away from the room, a hot snaking feeling clinging to him like a humid day.

 

* * *

 

The late afternoon sun, warms her as she relaxes in the pits, the stress of the Qualifiers over and done with. The only thing left this weekend is the race tomorrow and, as she leans back on the side of the garage, the sun on her face, the deep green of the grass and trees surrounding the Ring, able to surreptitiously watch Ben being interviewed by the commentators Bren and Biggs… that feels like a distant worry.

 

Qualifiers were decent enough for Resistance, she had placed fourth, behind Andor, beating Poe for the first time, who came in with a time just behind hers, his car still not quite at the level it was pre-incident, while Ben and Phasma had dominated the Qualifiers, placing pole and second respectively. There had been no major dramas, and she felt more confident after this Qualifiers than she had in a long while. Everything was fine… except one thing…

 

Snoke is staring at her.

 

Rey tries to take a subtle look around to see if there’s anyone past her that might have caught the manager’s attention… but no, nothing, unless he was interested in Ithano telling his team mate, Quiggold, another animated story about the 10-car pile up he was involved in back in 2002.

 

And when she looks back he’s stalking towards her. She straightens, feeling a sense of panic materialise, like she’s prey in the wild but she never has to feel that way again, so she forces it away and suddenly he’s in front of her. He’s taller than she thought he was, and thinner up close, the scars harsher on his puckered skin, but she doesn’t recoil. His eyes are colourless. That’s what disturbs her the most, they remind her of sharp icicles hanging poised and ready to pierce her through.

 

He stands there a moment, feeling far too close as he examines her.

 

“How do you think the weather will fare tomorrow?”

 

The icy sound makes her feel like she’s been doused with freezing water. A slight shiver trills through her spine. The words completely incompatible with his rasping tone.

 

She’s taken aback. Smalltalk… isn’t what she had expected. Perhaps a snide comment about their chances, even a downright threat after what she’d heard from Han. But there he stands, idly waiting for her response as though this isn’t the very first time he’s ever addressed her… or even been face to face with her for that matter.

 

He’s still waiting, a relaxed posture but his eyes are focused, unblinking.

 

“Oh, erm… hopefully it can stay dry, it’s rather nice when the sun’s out,” she replies somewhat lamely.

 

He stares at her for a few seconds, unsmiling.

 

“Hmm. We’ll see just how well your hopes hold out.”

 

And with that he walks away.

 

Did that… _actually_ just happen?

 

She stands there dumbfounded for a moment trying to find the answer to that question, swivelling around to check that Snoke wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. Yep. That’s definitely him. He passes by Ben, still being interviewed and her eyes meet his. There’s concern in his dark eyes, even from the distance she can see it, his body rigid as Biggs repeats his question.

 

Rose’s voice calls from the garage.

 

“Rey! Get a move on, car’s leaving for the hotel with or without you in 2 minutes!”

 

* * *

 

He stares at his phone.

 

He’d been staring at the infernal thing for nearly half an hour, a message typed, having been typed, deleted, retyped over and over again but still unsent.

 

For God’s sake, just do it. He presses ‘Send’.

 

**Hey. You busy?**

 

He waits. Staring at his phone, willing it to buzz. Nothing. The screen stays dark.

 

Kylo puts it down feeling foolish to be waiting on a piece of technology to come to life and give him some sliver of happiness.

 

Moving towards the papers laid out on his desk, he tries to focus on the diagram of the circuit. Attached is all the necessary information; rules, tips on how to best handle different parts of the track and images to complete the picture. He sits down to go over them yet again. One can never be too prepared.

 

_Ping._

 

Ben’s vaguely relieved no one else was in the room to witness how quickly he moved at the sound.

 

**Not Hux**

**Not much!** **Just got away from dinner, what’s up?**

He takes a steadying breath, his heart beating erratically.

 

**What’s your room number?**

 

* * *

 

**Grouchy Git**

**What’s your room number?**

 

Rey stares at the message for a good minute, trying to tamper down on the bulging feeling of anticipation and terror warring for dominance.

 

This was just embarrassing.

 

She hadn’t been quite honest… dinner finished a good half hour ago but after getting his first message she practically threw her phone across the room, too elated to check it until could get a hold of her self.

 

She stares at it.

 

The words stare back.

 

Come on, Rey, grow some balls and reply.

 

**1083.**

 

She hits send before she can chicken out and lies back for a full 5 seconds.

 

That moment of stillness is the last as Rey leaps up and races to the bathroom doing a quick check, idly grateful she didn’t change out of her dinner clothes; a silky, green top tucked into black, high-waisted business pants - it’s a bit corporate but here’s hoping the outfit will help her make wiser decisions and keep her head straight. The next few seconds are spent ripping through her rooms, attempting to make the mess slightly more acceptable.

 

A gentle knock on her door promptly breaks off all that effort as she races towards the door, she slows down enough to remember to stash some diagrams and race notes Finn had written her earlier and throw her shirt from yesterday into her bedroom.

 

What if we go in there though?! Shouts her mind hysterically. But her more sensible side kicks in to firmly shut that train of thought down.

 

Come on, Rey, you have a little more dignity than this.

 

Finally getting to the door, she takes another deep breath…

 

And pulls open the door with as much of that dignity as she can muster… it’s not a lot to be honest.

 

But then he’s there. Awkwardly standing there with his hands in his jean pockets, a dark Henley on.

 

Normal clothes. That’s… different, her brain supplies irrationally. Nice different though.

 

It throws her.

 

“Hi,” she says a little breathlessly.

 

“Hi,” he replies awkwardly.

 

“Uhm, do you want to come in?” She asks, moving to allow him some space.

 

He nods stepping forward self-consciously, so different to how he is on the track, in his Silencer. It’s endearing, her heart screams.

 

Rey lets the door fall closed on the mechanism with a gentle thud while Ben glances around the room, as though looking for the fire escape.

 

“Soo, you finally messaged _me_ first,” she teases, as he continues avoiding eye contact, “I was beginning to think you were technologically challenged.”

 

“Are you alright?” He asked bluntly.

 

Okaay, maybe she wasn’t as smooth as she wanted to be but way to be harsh, Ben.

 

“Last time I checked, yeah,” Rey replied merrily.

 

“I meant- sorry- I saw Snoke earlier… approach you,” he finally looks her in the eyes and of course her heart decides to flip-flop like crazy from something as little as that.

 

She feels her smile slip nonetheless.

 

“Oh, that.”

 

“Did he…” Ben shakes his head slightly, as though clearing a thought before continuing. “What did he want?”

 

“Nothing from what I could tell,” Rey replies honestly, “he was just talking about the weather… it was kind of weird.”

 

“The weather?” He asks, his brows knitting together.

 

“Yep, wait am I in the middle of something here? Was it code for something not about the weather?”

 

“No, no, well I don’t know… it’s just… Snoke doesn’t usually do anything for no reason…” he says slowly, “I was worried he might have said something to try ‘nd throw you off tomorrow.”

 

Rey has to look down at that; she can’t look him in the eyes when he says things that sweet so obliviously. But there’s also something in that, something… worrying, that makes her think maybe Han’s suspicions aren’t so groundless.

 

“Does he do that a lot?” She asks hesitantly. “Play mind games?”

 

“With other teams…? Well not directly but he’ll do just about anything to win.”

 

She looks up at that.

 

“Would he ever try to hurt another person to win?” Rey asks sharply.

 

Ben freezes. He thinks about it for a long moment, his forehead creasing.

 

“No, he wouldn’t…” he says slowly, “wouldn’t go that far. He want’s me to be the best, and that’s only possible if others are at their best. He’d definitely try to unbalance you if he gets a chance.” His dark eyes flickered with concern. “I don’t want him to do that to you though… throw you off or anything.” He clears his throat. “Congratulations, by the way… for qualifiers,” he tacks on, shifting the topic.

 

“You too, _Pole Position_ ,” she says playfully, ugh could she _be_ any more cringe, for the love of God, be normal, Rey.

 

They’re quiet for a moment. And she thinks over what he just said.

 

“You’re worried about me…” he stiffens at her words, “just because Snoke talked to me… should I be worried about you, with him around?”

 

Ben’s brown eyes widen slightly. He blinks, his gaze clearing.

 

“No,” he says after a pause, “no, I know him, I can handle it… it’s just sometimes a bit much on other people.”

 

She holds her tongue, nearly asking why he puts up with Snoke being so nasty to him, she shouldn’t; what they have is still fragile.

 

Nah. Screw it.

 

“But why do you let him be horrid to you but you’re worried about him being mean to me.”

 

He’s caught for a moment, trying to figure out the right answer, she almost takes pity on him and tells him not to worry about it but he finds the words.

 

“I chose it. You didn’t,” Ben replies simply.

 

It’s an answer. Not a good one, mind you, but an honest one.

 

She’s about to ask him if he wants to stay a bit longer, have a drink of water (or the copious amounts of Blue Drink they stuffed in her fridge).

 

“I’d better get going,” he says before she can offer. “You probably want to get prepared for tomorrow.”

 

She just nods, worried about being too much, yet that doesn’t stop the pang of loss as he turns for the door. She follows to say goodbye even though she doesn’t want to.

 

Stop it, she chides herself, you’re being ridiculous.

 

“Ben,” she says softly.

 

He turns quickly just before the door, she’s closer than she meant to be but neither of them step back.

 

“Thanks,” Rey says, trying to force air in when it’s suddenly become very difficult.

 

“I’ll see you at the race,” comes his nearly steady reply.

 

“Any tips?”

 

He smiles at that.

 

“You already know what to do. We both know you are more than capable.”

 

They’re just words but they lift her all the same.

 

An odd feeling comes over her as he stands in front of her, looking too large for the room; she wants to touch his chest, his arms, his face. After muddling through the events of last weekend she can’t seem to forget the feeling of his arms around her. With the longing came resentment; for feeling like she needed protection when she knew she didn’t, yet the ache didn’t fade. It could just be a moment and then she could do anything she set her mind to.

 

The feeling’s so strong, so intense, she can’t resist for a moment. She rests a hand softly on his arm to steady herself, raising up on her toes, just managing to gently brush his cheek with her lips… it’s totally normal, people do it all the time. They did in France; she thinks, trying to forget that they weren’t in France anymore.

 

It’s hard to force herself not to blush as she lets go of him.

 

“Thank you… for checking in. It’s annoying…” she says teasingly, “but it’s sweet.”

 

Ben just nods, looking down. His throat bobs.

 

“Anytime,” he says quietly before slipping out the door and out of sight, it clicks back into place.

 

* * *

 

Sunday 1st July – Austrian Grand Prix

 

Rey is awake before the sun.

 

For the first night all week she doesn’t wake up to any nightmares or dreams that make her stomach twist. She just wakes up to an impossible calmness and darkness and knows she won’t fall back asleep.

 

So she doesn’t force it.

 

She rises, changes for the day yet to appear and collects her items.

 

Rey’s footsteps echo lightly down the tiled staircase into the lobby where subdued activity persists from small teams of pit crews, beginning prep for the day before some have even gone to sleep.

 

She tags along with the few Resistance personnel without question, the early morning keeps most silent, just bleary eyes and short nods and she’s able to rest her head against the window of the people mover as it shuttles them the short distance from the hotel to the Ring, watching the dark forest pines skim by, silent and calm.

 

The skeleton crews go about their business leaving Rey to herself, treading lightly away from the artificial lights of the pit lanes and into the dark.

 

The night is still heavy on the track, though there are whispers of light, despite sunrise still eluding them. The morning twilight playing mischievously with the darkness.

 

Her boots scrape against the bitumen of the track in the easy morning air, the first birds beginning to chirp, their calls echoing along the lightest of breezes, the freshness still leaving dew on the ground, attaching to her as much as the damp grass she steps through. The easing darkness brings the world into grey as more sounds emerge and the trees themselves seem to awaken, the grey becomes tinted with colours; the lightest of blue smearing the sky, the misty greens appearing in the grass and trees.

 

Rey reaches the statue erected next to the track in the middle of the circuit. A huge grey archway stands above a massive bull. It’s rearing front legs raised in the air as it’s bowed head faces his horns towards an invisible foe.

 

She takes her time looking up at the bull, touching the cool steel of the archway, breathing in the fresh, clean air. The bull’s burnt red hue emerging as the light encroaches, the wrought iron sculpture creating a mosaic pattern, a lighter, softer appearance, one more at peace with nature. The sun finally breaks over the hills, sending soft beams past the forest while she stands in the cool, damp grass. Tendrils of pale yellow fill the air and warm the ground.

 

She stands there a long time, feeling the gentle rays caress her skin and the light breeze softly pass her by.

 

* * *

 

‘Sweet.’

 

Kylo doesn’t remember the last time someone called him ‘sweet’. Packed into the cramped cockpit of his Silencer, idling in pole position as he holds for the lights to disappear so he can let loose on the track he doesn’t feel particularly sweet… yet the words won’t leave his mind.

 

He revs his engine hard trying to hijack his thoughts back into the mind of a winner rather than this irritating, untethered mentality he knows will unbalance him.

 

5 red lights appear. 4. 3. 2. 1.

 

Go.

 

He bursts forward, getting the jump and leading the horde out onto the track, pushing down on the gas to build speed quickly as he climbs the mountain to Turn 1.

 

But to his right he spots Andor’s dark green Rogue car appear between himself and Phasma.

 

That certainly jolts him into hyper focus.

 

He keeps his cool, braking for the sharp-right of 1, but he’s captured the inside lane and he steams ahead as they exit. Andor has to fall back going slightly wide, but he squeezes Phasma back into third place, forcing her to adjust.

 

She’ll be furious.

 

Kylo keeps ahead as he continues up the mountain, the horde tight on his tail, all clamouring and glimpses a spot of orange further behind. Rey. She’s passed Phasma too. Alarm flares in him mixed with no small amount of pride. He looks back to the road, suddenly all too eagerly aware of the challenge today could shape into.

 

* * *

 

Rey shoves herself into the fray, taking advantage of the first corner confusion as Andor and Phasma push out to the left of the track. She noses forward enough to secure her place behind Andor in third as they slow for Turn 2.

 

She wants this. More than she thought she did. Desire and thrill chasing each other through her chest and along her limbs to her fingertips. She starts to edge up on Andor, as they begin descending, pushing herself closer and closer until she’s a half length up his car but he shifts, forcing her to back off and a black Silencer zooms past them both into the second place they were squabbling over.

 

Rey sets herself in her seat, a determined fire alighting in her chest as Phasma steals her place back. It only makes her more determined.

 

They remain in position lap after lap, occasionally threatening but never quite passing each other.

 

Ben’s still way ahead, pushing on unencumbered by the tussle they’re involved in.

 

Poe levels with her at one point but gives way as they slow excessively for the sharp right of Turn 4. She grins to herself as she powers ahead. He follows close behind her giving chase and pushing her onwards around the track but as they flow around Turn 10 and rocket down the straight he seems to fall back, slowing more and more until he falls completely out of sight while she continues on into Lap 17.

 

“What happened to Poe?” She askes down the comms, when he doesn’t appear around a corner in her mirrors.

 

There’s no answer for a moment, but it finally crackles to life and Finn’s voice fills the link, just as a Yellow Flag waves as a Virtual Safety Car is initiated, basically giving her the answer.

 

“Looks like his gear box has packed up, he’s out.”

 

Disappointment courses through Rey. Poe will be devastated; a second DNF in two weeks. There wasn’t much he could do to prevent it though, with the quick turnover from France to Austria, it was a miracle BB-8 had lasted this long into the weekend.  

 

“It’s alright, Peanut, stay focused and close it out for us.”

 

A sudden realisation hits Rey.

 

It’s early but it’s an opportunity.

 

“I want to pit now,” she says hurriedly, if this is going to happen then there’s no time to lose.

 

There’s a moment pause that make’s Rey worry her lip between her teeth as she waits on the all clear, the last few corners of the track looming closer. But Finn’s voice crackles to life again.

 

“Okay you can pit now. I repeat pit ASAP.”

 

She peels off the track into the pit lanes but clearly Ben and Cassian had the same idea just as quickly as they pull off moments in front of her. Get in early to get the jump on everyone. There’s the usual jerk as the jack lifts her car, they swap her tyres out in a blur, replacing her Purple Ultrasofts with a set of Yellow Soft tyres. They’re leaving it open to her; if she tries she can really look after her tyres and make it to the end of the race but if the group begins a 2-stop race she can adapt with them.

 

Ben is the first to exit the pits but Rey’s team goes fast, setting her free barely a moment after Andor. She chases after him, determined to not get caught behind a pack of midfield cars, urging her Number 19 on as she pushes herself onto the track, just making it in front of Bridger’s red and white F1. She releases a triumphant gasp of air as she spots Ben’s Silencer well in front with only Andor’s Rogue between them.

 

Phasma is the only one of the front runners who didn’t pit; First Order apparently splitting their strategy by keeping her out. That worries Rey; she doesn’t have Poe to cover her like Phasma has Ben. If Phasma’s able to keep up her pace and gap on her older tyres and pit later there won’t be any chance to even attempt an overtake … she just has to hope she made the right call by pitting when she did.

 

Inch by inch, it becomes clear who has the advantage as Phasma’s lead begins to dwindle eventually being caught and passed by her own teammate and Andor. She puts up a fight when Andor passes but Rey can see her tyres are worn-out already; a huge blister mars the back, right tyre. She’s not only lost her pace with those tyres but also her window to pit and keep her lead. Rey passes her easily on the straight, as they head into Lap 32, seeing her slip sulkily into the pits moments later. Rey pushes hard, speeding beneath the gantry, enjoying the clean, empty air, ready to catch Andor up.

 

It takes another 11 laps for her to get into position, Andor’s faster Supersoft tyres fending her off for a while but she can see a blister forming on the softer tread, which gives her all the encouragement she needs. The blister slowly but surely enlarges, becoming a dull stripe of hope against his slick black tyres to Rey and she can feel her own excitement building as Finn tells her his overall lap is slower than the one before and the one before that.

 

She presses down on Andor, as they head towards the Turn 4 corner, he takes the inside, forcing her to try and sneak past on the outside but he shifts to the left at the last second, cutting off her advance, pushing forward as she gives chase. But he’s in her sights now. They speed along the straight; Rey keeping in his slipstream, Andor clearly struggling to get his speed up again after the turn. She waits patiently as they pass through the double left-hander of 6 and 7 and the rearing bull before she heaves forward, slipping out of his slipstream on the short straight and surging past him, whipping around Turn 8 triumphantly.

 

All she sees is empty air but she knows Ben is somewhere ahead.

 

Now the chase is really on.

 

* * *

 

Hux’s scornful voice peters down the comm link.

 

“Tyre update,” he demands.

 

Ren presses his lips into a thin line but answers all the same.

 

“Supersofts are holding up, there might be a small blister forming on my back right.” He grunts out. “What’s the gap?”

 

“We have a 24.5 second gap,” the snide voice returns.

 

That would be enough to make another pit stop; he needed at least 22 seconds - unless the pit crew were in extra fine from - if he wanted to finish the race in the comfort of fresh tyres. But they weren’t an issue yet. He was still setting solid times.

 

“Okay, I’ll keep the tyres another few laps and check in again.”

 

It’s almost a therapeutic drive along the Ring, if he manages to forget that Hux can pipe up at any second and destroy that peace. He throws the Silencer around Turn 4, heading down the gentle curve of 5 towards the double left Corners of 6 and 7 where the huge, iron Bull rears. He tries not to let his mind wander back to Rey but that would be an easier task if he had something else to focus on, rather than just mindlessly cycling through the track. There’s a slight incline into Turn 8 before the descent into the two 90 degree turns of 9 and 10. She’d done incredibly well so far; sitting in second place, apparently fairly comfortably, as Phasma and Andor fought it out for third. He pushes forward onto the straight flying beneath the gantry in his dark racer and speeding up towards the first corner of Lap 48. He’s slowing down for Turn 1, taking the corner gently to protect his tyres, but just as he reaches the apex of the corner something flashes in his rear-view, just at the edge of his peripherals, then it’s out of sight just as quickly.

 

No. It couldn’t be.

 

He’s takes the incline up to Turn 2, steadying his focus on the track but checking every so often in his mirror just to make sure he wasn’t delirious from boredom.

 

Nothing there.

 

But again… just as he slows down for the sharp Turn 3 he glimpses it. This time he’s certain.

 

An orange X-Wing throws itself around Turn 1 just as he completes his corner, putting it out of sight again.

 

“Hux,’ he all but yells down the comm link. “What’s the gap?”

 

“Really, I just told yo-… it- it’s down to 23.3 seconds.”

 

Shit.

 

Within two laps Rey had shaved 1.2 seconds off her time… or his tyres were slowing him up … or his team was just incompetent, which he was getting the distinct feeling might be the case.

 

If she could keep that up or if his tyres continued degrading, then he was in danger. With 23 Laps still to go he would be putting immense pressure on his tyres. If the blister got worse then he’d be in trouble, especially if she was able to get within his pit window and an emergency occurred.

 

“Confirm Rey’s tyres,” he spits down the comms.

 

“Softs.”

 

Shit, she may just be able to get to the end of the race with those.

 

“Confirm gap.”

 

“22.9.”

 

Shit.

 

He’s running the scenarios through his head quickly, maybe he could stay out and push them to their absolute limit, like the Bahrain race.

 

“Am I able to pit or not? We won’t get another chance,” he warns down the line.

 

There’s no answer, he could scream. He’s about to, but then it crackles.

 

Snoke’s cold voice fills the lines sending a shiver down his back.

 

“Pit, Ren. Immediately.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

He has the entire circuit to complete before he can slide into the pit lanes. Any thoughts about conserving his tyres fly out the window as he shoves forward, urging his Silencer to go faster, taking every corner as tight, as fast, as forcefully as he can, using every ounce of concentration to get through in one piece. He doesn’t waste time checking the gap again. It’s make or break now, there’s only time to commit to the plan and hope it works.

 

Flying down the pit entry lanes he holds his breath, hoping they can do this.

 

It’s torture passing control over to the mechanics; powerless as he feels the jack yank his car up and the mechanics move around him at the speed of light. All he can do is pray they don’t fuck up.

 

* * *

 

Go go go go go go go.

 

That’s all she can think as Finn informs her Ben’s pitting again. This is their chance. She knuckles down, trying to trim any time she can off her pace, keeping control around the corners but slamming down on the accelerator as soon as she’s free of them. Had she caught up enough to get in front? Had she managed to get in his pit window? Finally, it seems, she makes it past the final corner, the pit lane in sight, she pushes faster than she feels she’s ever gone before, speedometer reaching 350 quickly as she thunders along the track.

 

There! He’s still in the pits, kept back by the speed limit, but not for long.

 

She goes faster still.

 

* * *

 

As soon as the speed limit zone ends Ben floors it, screwing up his face and holding his breath in an effort to make his Silencer go faster, speeding down the final part of the lane in seconds.

 

C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon, he urges.

 

He can see her, an orange speed demon coming straight from hell right for him. He can hear the crowd screaming. They’re practically next to each other speeding along the grandstand, separated only by the track barrier.

 

He holds his nerve.

 

Go go go go!

 

He slips out of the pit exit just as she has to slow down for Turn 1 and he slides onto the track, nosing in front of her, capturing the inside lane as she stays tight on his tail. Pushing forward and gaining as much momentum as possible to prevent her having the upper hand. He blocks her advance on the straight heading down from Turn 3, taking a huge gulp of air when he realises he’s forgotten to breathe in the thick of it.

 

There’s a moment then, he can’t quite believe how the race went from a leisurely stroll to nearly being lost, but he lets out a bark of wild laughter, the thrill of the race too much to be contained. His heart slams in his chest, grateful his helmet hides his grin while he pushes on to the Bull corner waiting for a straight where he can prove he made the best strategy choice to Rey with a two-stop race and fresh tyres.

 

* * *

 

Rey’s X-Wing screams into parc fermé, nudging up to the second place marker she punches out the foam support and leaps from her X-Wing. She rips her helmet off as if it physically won’t fit anymore as her grin widens further.

 

Her team are in the wild crowd, yelling with absolute abandon behind the barriers as camera’s flash. She’s over to them in seconds, launching herself into their arms screaming as much nonsense as they are as she’s pulled into the thick mass, clapped on the back so hard it would hurt if she could feel anything except euphoria at that moment.

 

A squeal of tyres forces her eyes towards the sound, a big smile still plastered on her face like her sweaty hair as Cassian pulls up into the 3rd place marker, nudging it forwards slightly as he stops.

 

Ben is bent over his Silencer at the 1st place marker, inspecting the front right wheel but he looks up as Cassian arrives, glancing over to catch her gaze on him, giving her the tiniest smirk, a smug knowingness filling his eyes.

                                                                                                                                   

Rey beams more if possible as her team quickly engulf her again.

 

“Woo! Way to go, Rey!” She hears from someone in the cluster.

 

Rose appears in front of her face, beaming and engulfing her in a tight hug.

 

“And to think, I taught you everything you know,” Poe says in mock proudness as he grasps her shoulder jubilantly, still in his racing jumpsuit.

 

“You wish, Dameron,” she snipes back, elated. “It’s all my pure skill out on the track.”

 

“Hey, if you’re gonna take all my victories from now on at least give me prodigal-mentor-status as a consolation prize,” he teases.

 

Rey screws up her face in mock thought.

 

“Hmm, nah,” she shoots back with a sly grin.

 

She bursts out laughing as he dramatically clenches his hand over his heart and pretends to faint into Rose’s arms.

 

“I will never understand how on earth you have such a huge fan base,” Rose deadpans, looking distinctly unimpressed.

 

Through the commotion of hugs and some robust head-knuckling from Chewy Rey looks back to see if Ben is celebrating with his team, but she can’t spot him at all.

 

He must already be in the Champions’ room, she thinks.

 

Rey disengages from the group looking over to see Andor celebrating with his own team, Jyn punching him on the shoulder before pulling him in for a kiss. The crowd goes wild for that.

 

“I’d better head in,” she says quickly. “Don’t worry, Poe, I’ll be sure to send a drop of champagne in your direction.”

 

Poe just sends her a rude gesture before she jogs off with a huge grin.

 

She takes a second to look back at her team, her heart swelling at the sight of them so happy and excited to be here with each other then she practically skips away heading through the doors and up the steps to get to the Champions’ room.

 

She takes them two at a time, bounding upwards and bursts through the door, immediately spotting Ben’s hulking black-clad figure in the corner, standing next to the benches.

 

He turns as he hears the doors bang open and slowly shut behind her, giving her a soft smile but his eyes hold no small amount of confusion.

 

She stands there a moment breathing hard, absently noting the otherwise empty room, her eyes alight with wild exhilaration.

 

And she simply can’t contain it any longer.

 

In four strides, she’s crossed the room into his space taking a brash delight in his bewildered expression before she hurtles into him, crashing her lips into his impossibly soft ones.

 

He doesn’t respond.

 

Rey pulls back the slightest amount, worry pricking in her belly at his impassive reaction. Oh crap, panicked thoughts swirl through her mind, what the hell were you thinking, Rey? He doesn’t want this- _you_. He was just being decent.

 

She peers up at his honey brown eyes ready to apologise profusely and promise him it wouldn’t ever happen again but, to her surprise, she finds them blown wide with shock and disbelief.

 

And want.

 

A relived chortle rushes from Rey’s mouth, and he blinks, seemingly coming out of his trance before a wicked smile plays at the corner of his mouth and his eyes fill uncertainly with warmth.

 

Ben makes up for his previous indolence; wrapping his arms around her, one grasping at her waist and the other coming up to tangle in her messy hair as he leans down to recapture her lips. She surges upwards excitedly on her tippy toes, putting her own hands to use exploring his shoulders and soft curls, his mouth moving readily against hers, sending thrills of pleasure jolting through her body.

 

The door bangs open and they leap apart, stumbling against the sudden lack of a warm, solid body, blushing madly like teenagers caught by a strict teacher.

 

Cassian stands alone in the doorway looking mildly surprised.

 

“Huh,” he says in his accented voice, waiting a beat. “Is it strange that this is not the craziest thing I’ve walked in on this week?”

 

Rey opens her mouth to-

 

To what? She doesn’t even know?!

 

Plead with him to keep quiet? Explain why he just walked in on a rookie snogging the all-round bad guy of F1? Ask what else he’d walked in on this week?

 

But before she can do anything, there are footsteps thundering up the stairwell and the Lando strides through the door happily with officials trailing after him and all Rey can do is send Andor a meaningful glance to please not say anything.

 

She doesn’t even know if this is anything yet. Although, she’s now certain she wants it to be.

 

Thankfully Cassian stays quiet, just watching them with amusement as she tries her best to look as though she wasn’t just passionately snogging the life out of Kylo freaking Ren. What does she usually do with her hands!?

 

The next moments pass in a blur, with Ben refusing to meet her eyes as they’re corralled out onto the podiums and handed Champagne that she promptly empties into Poe’s face under the balcony.

 

Though, she manages to save enough to spray at Ben with a small mischievous grin. To her delight, he lets her and hides his persistent smirk by gulping from his own bottle.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:            158

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:             139

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:     116

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                        95

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:      92

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:            90

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:          57

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                             42

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                   42

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                   39

Garth Maul - Sith:                               20

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                     10

Baze Malbus - Force One:                     5

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:       4

Mace Windu - Jedi:                               4

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:            2

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                          1

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:          1

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                        1

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                      1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all, are we not all here for awkward text convos between these two??
> 
> Oh my god, you have no idea how close I came to caving and getting Rey a podium earlier in the story, but I wanted it to feel like an ‘at last’ moment for everyone, and also give her a bit more confidence to get her man!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! xx


	9. Silverstone, England - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's gone and done something ridiculous but has no time to think about the consequences as she heads home for the British GP. Ben ends up in the green-room again with a certain Resistance driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HALLO
> 
> AM BACK WITH ANOTHER UPDATE
> 
> BIG thank you to everyone commenting and being the absolute best readers out there <3 You guys are amazing!
> 
> Enjoy chums!! xxx

Friday 6th July

 

Ben was freaking out.

 

The rapid relocation to England marked the end of the triple header; a two-week break finally on the horizon after three successive weeks of racing. For once, the sun was shining brightly over the Silverstone circuit, the incessant buzz of activity persisting as teams prepped. He kept his distance, preferring the isolation of his quarters in the First Order Paddock trailer. It was a cramped space; a narrow room, filled predominantly with the black leather couch he was currently splayed across, a television, and a small, private exercise area attached.

 

But he needed the quiet to think, and this was the best it got.

 

Rey had been essentially radio-silent since _that_ moment in the green room.

 

And he was freaking out.

 

Did he do something wrong? Was he a bad kisser? It’s not like he’d never kissed anyone before, though he was certain the number was well below any self-respecting person’s; he’d just never cared much before, and he’d definitely never requested feedback.

 

But why else would she stop talking to him unless it had been completely unenjoyable for her? His mind had gone around and around trying to pinpoint what else it could be, and it was the only logical reason he could find.

 

A frustrated huff expels from him, but it’s not enough to release all his worries and aggravations. He sits up, the leather protesting, running a hand through his hair before moving towards his exercise equipment.

 

Anything to stop the current barrage of thoughts would be a welcome reprieve.

 

* * *

 

Rey was freaking out.

 

Since leaving Austria on Monday it had been non-stop _go_. She’d been right about the media interest, more interviews booked than Poe for the first time since she joined Resistance; not deterred by her podium last weekend. But that hadn’t eliminated the worry about them digging into her past… nor the urge to keep looking over her shoulder.

 

She was tired of repeating the vague story of her childhood where she glossed over her parents and onto her even more glossed over fostering with Plutt, who it seemed was having a field day the last few months; reporters already well versed in who her foster father was, reaping the benefits of her success. It _shouldn’t_ have been a shock, yet hearing one journalist gushing about how brave and supportive her foster father had been to encourage her dreams despite their circumstances was enough to make Rey feel physically ill.

 

Greer made it clear that her stoniness surrounding the subject was being read as ungratefulness, but she’d put her foot down when Greer hinted at her taking charge of the narrative. Rey all but refused to discuss it with the media; making a fuss would only attract more attention she didn’t want.

 

And thus, without another viable solution, they were stuck.

 

Part of her _wanted_ to explain. She wanted to say that he’d been awful; never provided an ounce of support she had felt since joining the team.

 

But there was the catch.

 

As awful as he’d been. She was here. She had made it. And he was right.

 

(Or at least wasn’t wrong.)

 

He’d taken her in when _no one_ else had wanted her, as he’d relished reminding her, and there was part of her that defended him; some kind, warped piece of her that said maybe if _his_ circumstances had been different he could have grown up with love and turned out different.

 

So she stays mum on Plutt. Swallowing her ire until reporters moved on to more relevant questions surrounding her race plans.

 

Friday, the first day of practice rounds, makes her instantly regret her generosity.

 

FP1 had been a godsend, the freeness to fly along the track she knew, the white sails on the grandstand zooming past as the sun beams down on the track was her first moment of focus and security the whole week. The official press conference no harder than the interviews she had conducted earlier in the week, this time with the half-British Bodhi and Worthing-born Phasma to take some of the local attention, the latter’s unyielding presence an attraction of its own for reporters to try and crack.

 

But apparently that’s all the peace of mind Rey has earned this week.

 

She’s exiting the conference, absently following Phasma into the open paddock, when she realises, she has no clue what she’s doing now, the feeling of idleness peculiar after a week of action. It leaves her listless, watching the commotion of the constantly-bustling paddock without any real focus.

 

It’s Phasma again that beckons her attention minutes later. Her platinum blond hair flashing in the sunlight across the paddock, pulling Rey’s gaze momentarily to where she stands with Hux and… Ben, who’s clearly paying the strategist no mind whatsoever, his broad shoulders and drawn face turned towards her.

 

Not even the hectic rush or constant exhaustion of the last three weeks, could make her forget last weekend. The feeling of his arms. His lips. His palm cupping her cheek as he kissed her roughly all rushed to fill the void the instant her mind wandered.

 

Just… there had been nothing from him since.

 

Part of her hoped he might message first, after all she had made the first – somewhat extravagant - move, but surely he’d enjoyed it? At least she _thought_ he had. Still… what was she even supposed to say?? ‘ _Gee thanks’?_  ‘G _reat job’_??

 

Everything she tried sounded ridiculous; the words mocking her until she ended up telling herself she’d try again later only to never quite finish the job.

 

But seeing him now focuses her. A sense of direction igniting, as a hot thrill revives her in his gaze. She smiles, hopefully giving him one he knows is just for him.

 

 _Now_ ideas are flying.

 

She has free time to enjoy. Perhaps an empty supply room would be available. Would he follow if she just walked past them? She thinks, a small blush creeping up her neck. A wink? A nod? Maybe that will do, and she can make this weekend unforgettable.

 

She gets all of three paces across the paddock.

 

“Ah, girl!”

 

Dread grips her. Every ounce of heat and attraction she had been feeling draining rapidly away, replaced with a cold, cautious fear.

 

“There you are!”

 

She turns stiffly… and there _he_ is.

 

Plutt warbles towards her, his three chins wobbling with the effort and Rey immediately falls into old habits; quickly scanning him. His body language is open, the thick hand waving towards her an unfamiliar sight, as was the pleased grin he had plastered on his face. But the happiness didn’t quite fill his beady eyes, which were fixed on her like she was a piece of meat.

 

He reaches her, throwing flabby arms around her and holding a moment as cameras click and flash. He lets go - probably the most sustained piece of contact they’d ever had – the sheen of sweat along his brow clear he was itching for a drink, and yet… Rey finds herself frozen. Wanting nothing more than to shove away from his clammy grip, his smell, his gaze; and instead standing there stupidly. Like the stupid girl he’d always accused her of being.

 

“You don’t know half of the troubles you’ve caused me, girl,” he grunts in an undertone as he turns towards the cameras, a hefty arm around her shoulders as he motions the reporters closer. Rey can’t force her limbs to do anything other than be compliant. A fuzzy noise buzzing in her head mutes the world, like there’s cotton wool stuffed in her ears, she barely hears the first few questions, mouths moving rapidly without any sound attached. She focuses in on a young, stout blonde man until his lips connect with words.

 

“… must have been difficult as a single father, what was it like, Mr. Plutt?”

 

He guffaws good naturedly, the sound so forced Rey thinks it was pre-recorded for a second.

 

“Well you’ve seen the articles, haven’t you?” He says in voice that carries across the paddock. “Her and her teammate? Not at all surprising, there were plenty of times I had to put my foot down with her boys. She wasn’t what you’d call an _easy_ child to raise.”

 

Rey _burns_ with embarrassment, praying that if only one person could be deaf to Plutt’s fabrications it might be Ben. She refuses to check if he’s listening, that confirmation might just end her. Plutt continues, lie after lie falling easily from his slack mouth.

 

“She was rather undriven as a child but showed an interest in racing, so I helped her make her first kart when she was 6 and cheered her on every race she had.”

 

She opens her mouth to dispute that, the air of compliancy finally withdrawing, like a fog on a chilly morning. Her success was her own, something no one could take from her… but he anticipates her, the hand on her shoulder tightening uncomfortably, a thick thumb digging into her shoulder blade painfully. Old habits die hard and so do memories, she shuts her mouth, enduring the humiliation stonily while Plutt creates opportunities for paid interviews later, transparently joking about how much her things will be worth when she finally wins a pole.

 

He’s graciously thanking them for their time when he says the words that bring her back from her inert state.

 

“…as you all must understand, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

Plutt guides her away until they are out of sight, pulling her roughly towards a building, wrenching the door open and giving her a little push inside. He tries a couple of doors in the hallway, simpering apologies when they’re occupied before finding an empty one.

 

The mask falls as his furious, purple face rounds on her.

 

“You are in for a world of tr-”

 

“Why are you here, Unkar?” Rey cuts in harshly, wanting this to be over.

 

“I’m here to get what I’m owed,” he leers back, yellowed teeth showing.

 

Rey opens her mouth to question what on earth _he_ could be owed but he carries on.

 

“ _You_ disappeared with barely a word,” he accuses, “I lost money having to hire help on the yard, do you know how much that costs me every day? You know the Lady was not pleased about all the media skulking about. And after all those years caring for you all I get is a note? I’m _here_ to get what I’m owed. It’s the _least_ you can do for what you’ve put me through.”

 

Rey feels her eyes flash.

 

“You didn’t,” she says, defiant now they’re away from the media glare. “You didn’t care what happened to me as long as you got paid. I don’t owe you anything.”

 

“Don’t be too hasty with those words, girl,” he counters with a slimy smile. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to spread filthy lies about me.”

 

She does. All too clearly.

 

A woman had come to the junkyard, a pale, fleshy lady with a burn down the side of her face but the first one Rey had ever seen there. Some strange certainty in her arrival convinced Rey she’d come to save her; she’d been so sure that she’d run to the woman and asked to leave with her, sobbing about Plutt’s cruelty.

 

She didn’t. Instead she went to Plutt, who was as scared of her as Rey was of him.

 

That was the first time Plutt left a bruise on her skin.

 

 _Why_ the woman had done that didn’t make sense to her for a long time, just more cautious around adults. She only realised later the Lady owned the junkyard, a front for whatever business she needed money laundered through, Plutt ran it. She didn’t give a jot about her welfare as long as Plutt had cheap labour to keep costs down.

 

At that point she simply resolved to wait for her parents to save her.

 

Plutt’s greedy eyes glint triumphantly at her silence.

 

“I thought as much, you don’t want everyone to know you’re a filthy liar.”

 

“That was then, it would be different now,” she says boldly, but even then… there are doubts. Plutt had a way of surviving everything, and always to her detriment. “Leave me alone.”

 

He didn’t like that.

 

“This discussion isn’t over-”

 

“It is,” she spits firmly. “You can have the interviews, you can spread whatever lies you want, but if you come near me again-”

 

“What?” He says, his forehead creasing comically. “What exactly will you do, girl?”

 

He assesses her a moment with a small leer, his tiny eyes crawling over her.

 

“We both know you won’t do a thing about it.”

 

And with that he waddles from the room, slamming the door behind him. Rey swallows thickly, wondering exactly how this weekend became so shit.

 

* * *

 

Saturday 7th July

 

And it doesn’t stop being shit.

 

During FP2, she spins out on two corners, the second time snapping her front wing on the barrier, forcing her to cut the session short.

 

Her bad mood even seeps into the sponsor dinner with the Kessel Motoring owners; any conversation feeling forced and stilted, setting an awkward tone before the basic pleasantries are even finished.

 

Nor does Saturday start much better. Her fitful sleep causes her to miss her alarm altogether, rushing to scoop her belongings together in a panicked frenzy while Greer waits to whisk her to the track for the last practice session and Qualifiers.  

 

The saving grace is her car. Repaired and shining in the pit garage when she finally arrives… but she only gets a few minutes on track before a huge crash from Fett stops the practice. It doesn’t take long for her relief at his lack of injuries to be overtaken by jittery discomfort, _longing_ to get back on the circuit and escape.

 

Yet when the crash is finally cleared away it doesn’t even provide her that reprieve; with cars backed up, everyone’s vying for space and it seems someone’s constantly in her path, preventing her from flying around the circuit… and edging her frustrations onto a knifes edge.

 

When FP3 draws to an end, her last prospect of peace destroyed, she makes her way back to the pits, desperately wanting to be alone until she has to emerge for the Qualifiers later, Silverstone feeling less and less like the homecoming she hoped for.

 

She’s hoping to lay low in the Resistance trailer but whatever bit of luck still clinging to her dissolves as a meaty hand whips out of the shadows, yanking her into a quiet, shady spot near the marshals’ building.

 

Plutt corners her against the concrete wall, huffing from exertion, his pale complexion blotted with red.

 

“Now, girl,” he wheezes without preamble, “I’ve got an interview set up for tonight with Sloan, but she says she’ll pay double if you’re there.”

 

Rey just stares back for a moment, steeling herself.

 

“I told you to leave me alone,” she says coldly.

 

Plutt sniggers.

 

“This again?” He demands artlessly. “D’you think you’d get to choose your family? Same goes for adoption, girl. You should be thankful I didn’t leave you to rot at a supermarket like your useless parents-”

 

“They didn’t,” Rey returns furiously, “they weren’t.”

 

“-or leave you at an orphanage like that family when you were too much a burden.”

 

That hurts. Not least because it’s true.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I took you in, now you can repay the favour,” he growls menacingly.

 

“I told you,” Rey replies, frustration burning through her veins, bringing unwelcome tears to her eyes. Of course, they appear when she wants to seem strong. “Do what you want but leave me the hell alon-”

 

“You’ll never be free of me, girl, you owe me-”

 

“I don’t owe you anyth-”

 

“You’ll do as you’re told!” Spittle flies from his mouth, his fury in full force, hands grip the collar of her jumpsuit as he shoves her into the wall behind her. “I’ll have y-”

 

“Hey.” A sharp, tight voice cuts through Plutt’s threats, both their heads whipping towards the intrusion.

 

Phasma stands less than six feet away, decked out in her black jumpsuit sharply contrasting her pale skin and shock of platinum hair. She’s intimidating, especially when she crosses her arms against her broad chest, taking in the situation with narrowed eyes, stonily silent.

 

Plutt recovers somewhat, not quite letting go of her but he watches Phasma warily.

 

“Excuse us,” he simpers slimily, dismissing her, “I’m just having a conversation with my daughter.”

 

Phasma ignores him completely, observing Rey with a nearly uninterested expression.

 

“You good?” She asks, some of the first words the woman’s ever directed at her.

 

Rey nods stiffly, unwilling to endure the further embarrassment of asking for Phasma’s help.

 

But she must put two and two together as she takes in the scene. Rey can only imagine. Her backed into a wall, Plutt’s grip on her, her drying tear tracks. She tries to banish the image.

 

Phasma levels Plutt with her bored look.

 

“Maybe you should fuck off,” she recommends mundanely, like she’s suggesting an entrée, the threat still clear.

 

Plutt’s eyes dart back to Rey and then to Phasma again, re-assessing her size. She can see the clogs turning slowly as he reaches the conclusion that he may not be a match for Phasma’s strength. He grudgingly releases her, keeping a wary eye on Phasma, as he steps back.

 

“We’ll talk later,” he mutters to her, slipping away and giving Phasma a wide berth.

 

Rey doesn’t want to say it. Not to her competition.

 

“Thank you,” she says all the same, because Phasma deserves her gratitude despite whatever conflicted emotions Rey may feel.

 

Phasma just examines her, an impenetrable look on her face.

 

“To be clear: I don’t care,” she states bluntly. “But that guy seems like a cunt.”

 

Before Rey can confirm her suspicions Phasma turns on her heel and strides away.

 

Apprehension resettles.

 

That wouldn’t be the last of Plutt. Even when absent he lingered, his words swirling through her mind; how burdensome she could be, how no one truly wanted her, the lies about her parents.

 

She needs a moment. She needs to be alone.

 

She needs _them_.

 

* * *

 

Kylo taps his foot against the chrome leg of the desk impatiently, his muscles itching for action yet forced into the confines of the First Order meeting room. Snoke sits like a statue at the main desk, Canady and Hux across from him while Ren fits himself into a too-small chair to the side, trying futilely not to fidget. The chair next to him is empty, awaiting Phasma’s eventual arrival to get the briefing underway.

 

Hux shoots him a filthy look as his foot continues tapping.

 

No one says anything. No one needs to. There isn’t anything to say besides what is necessary for Qualifiers.

 

The door shoves open, wafting a bout of warm air into the artificially cooled room. Phasma strides in, shunting herself into the empty seat next to Kylo.

 

Silence.

 

“You’re late,” Snoke says icily.

 

If Phasma’s scared she doesn’t show it, her level gaze never once shifting.

 

“Apologies. Press held me up,” she replies shortly.

 

Kylo feels his eyebrow twitch.

 

A lie.

 

He’d seen Phasma push past journalists, camera operators and race officials, occasionally leaving them in the dirt in order to get to appointments on time. Phasma didn’t just get caught up by interviews. As far as he could tell from her poker face, nothing gave her greater pleasure than rebuffing the press.

 

Snoke studies her a moment.

 

“ _Don’t_ let it happen again,” he annunciates. “Canady?”

 

Canady stands, his chair scraping as he commences the briefing.

 

Snoke knows she’s lying. _Surely_ , he knows. If Kylo can tell, then he _must_ be able to. Yet… she’s never lied to Snoke before, at least, not so far as he knows… why would that suddenly change?

 

He’s so caught up with trying to puzzle it out he more or less misses the meeting; Canady disclosing performance diagnostics, Hux reminding them of their lap times compared to their competition and initial strategy outlooks. It went the same every weekend and after three consecutive weeks of it, Phasma’s divergence was proving a much more interesting study.

 

Finally, Snoke nods to Hux who stands pompously.

 

“Very well. You have 45 minutes to Qualifiers, be at the pit garage in 30.”

 

“Dismissed,” Snoke snaps, already standing and walking towards the door before Hux is finished.

 

Hux hurries behind, trailing him while Canady gathers his data. Phasma stands to exit, but Kylo’s overcome with curiosity, he hastily extricates himself from the chair.

 

“Why were you actually late?” He asks quietly as they leave the trailer.

 

She turns to face him and Ren takes a moment to examine his team mate. It was rare for someone to be taller than him, especially a woman, but Phasma stands unapologetic. She was someone he could never quite figure out - though he’d always assumed her loyalty to Snoke was unwavering - now he’s not so sure. Maybe she didn’t have any loyalties at all.

 

Phasma studies him right back.

 

“You’re never late,” he continues, when she remains silent. “Not for a journalist’s sake.”

 

Her gaze is steady but her lip twitches.

 

“Just doing my part for the team’s publicity,” she replies brusquely.

 

Kylo raises an eyebrow.

 

“You’re never late,” he deadpans.

 

Phasma sighs, as though he’s a mildly irritating gnat pestering her.

 

“You’re less dense than you let on,” she replies indifferently. “Some creep was hitting on the Resistance girl,” she continues rolling her eyes. “It didn’t look particularly welcomed.”

 

He stiffens, feeling his blood turn to ice. Her eyes narrow slightly and he tries to keep his face in check.

 

“I couldn’t exactly tell Snoke that,” she continues dispassionately. “It wouldn’t be an excuse at all.”

 

Ben nods jerkily.

 

Phasma gives him another look, something odd happening; her thin lips curl into what he could almost call a _smile_?

 

“Not quite what you expected of me, was it… Solo.”

 

Kylo’s attention snaps to her but she’s already away, striding off without any concern for him.

 

Immediate uneasiness clouds his chest at Phasma's mention of his real name, bringing only more questions but he silences them for the moment; all he knows for a certainty is that he needs to find Rey and make sure she’s alright.

 

* * *

 

Rey’s eyes scan the crowd. Desperately searching the sea of people for something – _anything -_ familiar, a panicked feeling threatening to overwhelm her.

 

Hope. That hope she felt back in Austria is there, she’s clinging to it like a thin blanket in a cyclone, every failed glance a piece of shrapnel hacking through the fabric. Surely they’d heard. Surely they’d seen something. Surely they would come for her.

 

The crowd is milling in the stands, no one taking much notice of her in the shadows of the operations building as they negotiate seats, consume vendor food and fizzing drinks and chatter loudly against one another, but she doesn’t stop scanning the masses, looking for two - _just two_ \- hoping they’ll notice.

 

If they could appear now. That’d be fantastic. It may even be enough to undo all the hurt. If they could _just_ _appear_.

 

“Rey?”

 

She whips around, a deep voice interrupting her search.

 

Ben stands behind her, a few arm lengths away. She hadn’t even heard him approach, though part of her connects the dots, Phasma is after all his team mate… but the wild, turbulent part rails at his presence.

 

He must see something in her face because this own furrows in concern.

 

She doesn’t want to see that just now. Rey turns back to the crowd, eyes skimming the stands, never still.

 

“Rey, what is it?” He asks gently taking a step closer.

 

It’s hard to breathe, to think straight, to keep her emotions under control when he says her name so softly.

 

She looks back at him, ready to reply that she’s fine, nothing’s the matter… but seeing the worry in his dark eyes, she can’t quite utter the lie.

 

He nods his head gently to the side motioning for her to follow as he turns towards the building. She takes a last look at the crowd. They look happy. No one there is missing her. She follows.

 

He steps through the side door into a quiet hallway, finding an empty room and holding the door open for her, offering her the chance to flee.

 

She doesn’t, she treads into the vacant room. Chairs scattered haphazardly, facing the front where a single dignified desk sits.

 

The door clicks shut and a dull energy chases down her spine.

 

Rey takes stock of the room to calm her mind.

 

Twenty-three. There are twenty-three chairs in the room.

 

Soft hesitant footfalls close the distance between them.

 

One table, four pens scattered across it. One empty penholder, a metal bin in the corner. Someone’s worn notebook lies forgotten under a chair.

 

“Rey? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”

 

Did someone hurt you, she echoes heavily in her mind.

 

“Rey, please.”

 

The desperate plea hit’s her harder than it should, something she’s heard herself say over and over in the darkest moments. His voice is so soft and tender… she doesn’t know what to do with the feeling.

 

“I thought… maybe…” she begins thickly, “coming back here I could find something… answers… _something_ … but there’s nothing.” Her breathing feels ragged. “I thought maybe… if I made a name for myself… I thought they might come back… they might see… they might want me,” she whispers, vainly hoping he doesn’t hear.

 

She swallows her own disappointment.

 

“I was wrong,” she hears herself say hollowly. “I’ve never felt more alone.”

 

“You’re not alone.”

 

Rey looks up. He’s close. Deep cognac eyes holding nothing but compassion, understanding… certainty.

 

And she does something she knows deep down is foolish, but she does it anyway.

 

She believes him.

 

* * *

 

Ben doesn’t know what he’s doing but hopefully it’s not wrong.

 

Comfort isn’t his strong point. It wasn’t tangible. There was never anything he could do to stop the hurt, so he usually ignored it. But he can feel her pain as though it’s his own, maybe some of it is. That loneliness and hurt is the same ache he endured and buried throughout his life. And, entwined with it, anger.

 

 _That_ he understands well.

 

But he doesn’t want that for her. Have it twist and disfigure her until she is none of what she used to be, like it did for him.

 

So he draws her to him. Ignoring instincts that covet distance and solitude to remain secure.

 

Friends. That’s what she said they were the last time they spoke. He could be that for her. Nothing more if that’s all she wanted. This is something friends would do, right?

 

Ben holds her to his chest as though she was a missing part of him, feeling her relax into him, his arms wrapped around her, gently stroking what he hopes are soothing circles into her back. A moment later her own arms return the embrace.

 

They stay like that for a long time, until her breathing evens out. He doesn’t remember the last time he embraced someone like this, so close she could probably feel his accelerating heartbeat as he breathes in her scent of pine and honey.

 

But finally she stirs in his arms, breaking the spell they’re under.

 

“I have to go,” she says, her voice raw. “They’ll be wondering where I am.”

 

She pulls away slowly, the cold rushing into the space between them. He nearly pulls her back and commands her to stay. But that might push her away for good.  Friends give each other space, he reminds himself, better that than her never wanting to see you again.

 

There’s a drying tear track leaving a salty path down her delicate face and Kylo fights the urge to wipe it clear of her face.

 

 _You don’t have that right,_ a voice whispers. _She doesn’t want you to touch her. She doesn’t want you._

 

He can only watch as she moves further away.

 

“Thank you,” she mumbles at the door.

 

He nods, a moment passing before he realises he should say something.

 

“Good luck.”

 

“You too,” she replies, smiling softly and making his heart beat faster than he wished it would, before slipping through the gap and out of sight.

 

* * *

 

Qualifying is a rush of emotions for Rey, but also a release. Q1 and 2 eliminated nine drivers after Fett’s damaged car remained in the pits, handing him P20 before Qualifiers even began.

 

She puts everything she has into the fight. Finally unencumbered on the track she knows.

 

The battle for P1 was in high contention. Phasma claiming Provisional Pole first in Q3, Poe cinching it soon after only for Ben to take it not a minute later. Cassian claimed third fastest, knocking Phasma down to fourth, while Rey only managed P5, passing beneath the gantry _just_ before the clock ticked down to zero giving her one final lap to set a better time.

 

Ben comes into view for a brief second before disappearing around the first corner.

 

Rey tries not to think of anything except speeding along the circuit, yet the Silencer slips in and out of her view refusing to be ignored. All it does is remind her of his embrace. A warm fire spreading in her chest as she chases him.

 

She pushes hard through the circuit, the radio crackling just as she exits the rapid five corners of 10-14.

 

“Poe has Provisional Pole 1:26:053. Your time’s lookin’ good, Peanut.”

 

She pushes harder, wanting that front row too.

 

She’s just whipped around the heavy right of 15 when it crackles again.

 

“Ren with Provisional Pole 1:25:892, c’mon Rey.”

 

_Left, right, right, foot down, bwam bwam bwam._

 

She fires down the straight chasing the gantry for the final time today, bursting below it, her comm crackling expectantly.

 

Finn’s voice finally registers.

 

“And that’s 1:26:214, you have P3, repeat you have P3, that’s Resistance for P2 and P3 for the British Grand Prix.”

 

Rey lets out a loud whoop, adrenaline thrumming through and fusing with the lingering warmth. It’s not the front row but it’s not far off it. It feels like she finally back in control, like she’s done something she can be proud of.

 

The congratulations and hugs only bolster her but the feeling’s suddenly punctured as she spots Unkar standing to the side of the garage, waiting.

 

She knew he’d be back.

 

But this time he wouldn’t stay.

 

She strides over to him, sparking with determination, but he’s quicker, picking up his demands from yesterday as though there was no interruption.

 

“You need to be ready by 5:15 it’d look better if we hold it in your hotel room, I’ll be there at 5.”

 

Finn and Poe are giving her a strange look.

 

“Don’t forget to dress appropriately I don’t ne-”

 

“I told you; no. I am not involved in this,” Rey hisses.

 

“You will be. I’ve been _lenient_ , girl, if you play along that might just continue.”

 

Rey releases an astounded huff.

 

“You can’t _contr_ -”

 

“Yes I ca-.”

 

“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice barks.

 

Rey whips around to find Han has moved from the garage to stand only a few steps away, his headset still around his neck.

 

Rey looks down, shame flooding her.

 

Plutt, of course, has no shame.

 

“Ah Mr. Solo,” he extends a hand, “glad to meet you, I’m the girl’s fath-.”

 

“I know who you are.”

 

Rey feels herself burn even more.

 

“I think it’s time you left,” Han states bluntly. “I need my drivers ready for tomorrow.”

 

“Well she has other commitments too,” Plutt says smarmily, “I’m sure you can appreciate… family is very important.”

 

Han’s face turns stony, a storm brewing underneath his weathered features.

 

“It’s not worth it,” Rey mumbles to him, trying to deescalate whatever might happen.

 

Han frowns at her words.

 

“You mean you aren’t?” He asks plainly before looking back at Plutt and continuing. “I’ll be clearer: get out of my garage. Now.”

 

“I’m talking to my daugh-”

 

“She’s not. You never once cared enough to earn the right to call her that.”

 

“Ho- how da-” Plutt splutters indignantly.

 

Han continues as though he hadn’t spoken.

 

“My wife happens to be a very powerful senator,” he begins, sarcastic derision in full display, “she’s deeply opposed to illegal ventures.” He lets it hang there. “She knows people everywhere. And I wouldn’t underestimate her influence extending to _other_ influential people here. So,” his voice is fairly light but there’s a definite threat she hasn’t heard in any bad mood he’s been in before, “here’s your first and final warning: stay away from Rey. Don’t talk to her, don’t come near her and definitely don’t speak about her or you’ll find yourself with lawsuits up to your squashed nose based on what I’ve seen at that junkyard, not to mention a case of child neglect, if she chooses. And you can be sure she’ll have our full support if she does.”

 

Plutt’s turned an odd shade of purple at Han’s mention of the junkyard, resting at a deep and unflattering magenta. He turns towards Rey, mouth already open to spew whatever senseless thought comes first.

 

“I’d think very carefully about your next words,” Finn warns him from behind Rey. “She kinda holds your future in her hands,”

 

Plutt stands there a moment longer mouth still hanging open, snapping it shut only to open it again.

 

“You wouldn’t. We’ve been through this, we both know you wouldn’t,” he spits furiously, façade forgotten.

 

“You don’t own me anymore,” Rey snaps, finally certain. “I didn’t have anyone before. Now I do.”

 

She examines the man that controlled her childhood with a detached interest, watching his power crumble before her eyes. The only person she had growing up, who preferred to ignore her existence rather than give her even a sliver of love. The one who said she’d never amount to anything, would never have a family, never leave that junkyard.

 

“Go to hell, Plutt,” she says, the finality of the words making her feel so free it brings a smile to her face.

 

He stands there gormlessly a few more moments before jerking away, head held as high as his thick neck allows him, waddling angrily away.

 

“And don’t let the door hit you on your way out!” Finn yells after him, despite the distinct lack of any door.

 

Han turns to her once Plutt’s out of sight.

 

“If he comes near you again, you tell me,” Han tells her firmly.

 

Rey nods but there’s something niggling at the back of her mind.

 

“How did you know about the junkyard?”

 

“I told you before, kid, your business is your business, but if someone’s endangering my team, you bet I’ll know all about ‘em.”  He doesn’t even let her utter a ‘thank you’ before striding off, not one for emotional displays. But he knows.

 

She’s finally free.

 

She turns to Finn and Poe, the latter looking troubled.

 

“Poe?”

 

He looks at her, concern etched on his face.

 

“You alright?” She asks him.

 

He shakes the expression away but it doesn’t quite leave his eyes.

 

“I just… didn’t realise it was that bad.”

 

Rey swallows. Poe hadn’t had the easiest childhood either, hearing it from him just confirmed that she couldn’t minimise it any longer.

 

Pretending her childhood was fine - far from perfect but sufficient - had been a key part of her survival. But she _had_ survived it. And that pretence couldn’t go on… not if she wanted to grow.

 

She had to face the truth, whatever it was.

 

Finn looks at the ground before perking his head up.

 

“Well you’ve got us now. And like it or not, you always will.”

 

Rey finds herself grinning, a limitless euphoria guiding her into Finn’s hug.

 

He’s right.

 

She _has_ a family.

 

She has them.

 

* * *

 

8th July - British Grand Prix

 

The track is a scurry of activity as the sun beams down, not a cloud to be seen. The cars are arranged in their grid positions, the multitude of colours brightening the track; resplendent reds, blues, purples, blacks, oranges and greens all glinting in sunshine.

 

Rey strides to her number 9 X-Wing, brushing her fingers along the sleek, glossy body as Rose hands over her white helmet with a grin before fussing over last checks.

 

She’s about to pull it on but pauses, glancing to her left and catching Ben’s gaze from where he waits next to his dark Silencer. It’s a searching look, like he’s trying to figure out if she’s okay, but that thrill, the one that seems to be linked to his gaze, travels through her with such speed she nearly shivers, bringing a secretive smile to her lips. The corner of his mouth lifts gently in return, a silent ‘ _good luck’_ exchanged before she slips on her helmet, stepping into her car.

 

Home. She was home. Her X-Wing. Her country. Her track. Her name.

 

Hers.

 

No one could claim that from her.

 

She stares straight ahead as the commotion on the grid disappears bit by bit until only the cars and their drivers are left.

 

One red light appears, the others following slowly.

 

And then none.

 

Engines whine, tyres squeal and the pack hurtles forward.

 

Poe gets the jump on Ben, flying out with a speed that even Rey hadn’t anticipated.

 

Racing towards the first corner she seizes the inside line and pulls ahead of Ben too, securing second. Andor’s in her rear-view, creeping up on the black racer as they both chase her past Turn 2 and towards 3.

 

She veers around the corner but a plume of white smoke in her mirrors distracts her, jerking her head to see Andor’s green car lock up and collide with Ben’s. It’s just a front wheel skimming against one of his back wheels, but it’s enough to send him spinning off the track, the last thing she sees as the corner takes him out of her sight.

 

* * *

 

Kylo grits his teeth as his Silencer spins backwards to a juddering halt. Two cars whiz by, narrowly avoiding smashing into him as he sits helpless in the dirt. Dust swirling around his helmet as he shifts into first gear, driving back onto the track.

 

His comm crackles.

 

“Report!” Comes Hux’s shrill demand.

 

But the storm of fury crackling inside him is too much to respond, every ounce of concentration he has goes into not melting down at the sight of the slowest Hutt cars continuing far ahead of him.

 

He takes a deep shaky breath trying to refocus the anger on his car as it slowly gets back to speed.

 

Too slowly.

 

“FUCK!” His leather gloves creak with the strain as he grips the wheel. “I think there’s damage,” he yells to no one in particular.

 

The comm link crackles again and this is it. He knows it. He’s going to hear Hux’s voice, lose his last shred of control and destroy everything in sight.

 

But it just continues crackling as he slowly increases speed until a deeper, more formal voice broadcasts.

 

“Ren, keep going,” Canady commands brusquely. “Diagnostics show no damage. Repeat: _keep going_.”

 

The clear instruction from his engineer refocuses him. He buckles down continuing towards the two sharp lefts of Turn 4 and 5. Canady’s right, the car gets back to pace, the cleaner air helping it function.

 

But he’s still last.

 

From pole to last in less than three corners, he thinks without any trace of amusement, lashing his car through the twists of the track.

 

* * *

 

It takes Kylo 12 Laps to pass the sluggish midfield, weaving and powering past each of them methodically. When he finally reaches 6th place behind Rook he can spot the green tail of Andor’s racer but no one else ahead, the frontrunners taking advantage of the confusion and steaming forward.

 

He doesn’t have to suffer the sight very long as Andor slips into the pits to change tyres and serve his ten second penalty for the contact on him.

 

Not enough, Ren’s mind rages savagely, he lost every place possible, Andor certainly wouldn’t lose that many in ten paltry seconds.

 

Yet Andor’s pitting moves him into 5th where he begins assessing Rook’s Rogue, determined not to see another green car in front of him the rest of the race.

 

* * *

 

Rey pulses fast along the straight towards Turn 1. Poe’s car ahead, his pace impressive after the struggle of the past couple of weeks. Phasma’s just in front of her, having pulled an opportunistic overtake when Rey went wide on Lap 14, leaving her in third… but she’s chasing her down.

 

She spies Poe slip off the track as they finish Lap 17, heading into the pits for his first stop but Phasma and Rey power past, moving into first and second respectively.

 

That’s when she feels the presence behind her. Some kind of sense alerting her to his arrival.

 

Ben.

 

He seems to appear out of nowhere, a dark phantom suddenly closing in, hounding her while Phasma slips ahead and she refocuses her efforts on defence.  

 

He pursues her for three laps, not quite threatening an overtake but not letting up either. Rey finds herself enjoying the game.

 

Preoccupied, she nearly misses Phasma take the pit entry, but Rey holds, itching to pit as she feels her tyres slip slightly on the hot track. But she has her strategy, she just has to stick to it.

 

They thunder down the straight, past the first corner, Rey and Ben leading the pack around the bend of Turn 2 towards the sharp, slower right of 3, the double left of 4 and 5 and onto the straight.

 

Suddenly Ben swings sharply to the left, pushing hard on her rear along the straight, she moves left too, blocking his path but he jerks left further still, creating free space in front of him as they barrel towards the left-hander of Turn 6. He moves past her back wheel, preventing her from blocking again, edging higher. She presses harder, faster while Ben forces her rightwards, away from the inside lane as the straight runs out, and they plunge into the corner.

 

He cinches the lead as they emerge from the bend, but Rey doesn’t give him an ounce of space as they curve onto the long right bend of 7. Holding the outside lane and pushing faster with the extra space, levelling with him as he has to brake harder to negotiate the tighter turn and avoid contacting her, she takes advantage of his predicament, leaping ahead out of the corner.

 

She doesn’t let up, speeding further down the straight towards the softer right-hander of Turn 8, but he’s on her again. Sheer willpower keeps Rey ahead, Ben holding so close she’s certain he must be only millimetres away before pulling left, quick as lightning and advancing; at her rear tyre, half-way past her. They thunder towards Turn 9, neither of them braking as the corner approaches, waiting for the other to blink first. Surely, he’ll brake soon. He _has_ too. Rey grips the wheel harder trying not to give in first. But there’s no track _left_. She slams the peddle down. He holds a hundredth of a second longer and it’s enough, braking practically inside the corner, just wrangling the sharp turn without flipping off the track, holding and powering ahead.

 

“Dammit!”

 

But no amount of annoyance comes close to surpassing the stunned respect she holds for him. He was completely undaunted by his own mortality in that moment, no fight to wage against his own mind.

 

They continue, their tyres more worn than a lap ago, Rey chasing him through the rapid corners of 10 through to 14, trying to use the straight as a chance to pass him but this time he fends her off easily.

 

A yellow flag appears just as they round 15 and Ben reacts, relinquishing his hard fought first place, gunning into the pits.

 

Still, Rey doesn’t pit.

 

She grasps the wheel tightly worry creeping in as she feels her tyres slip slightly around Turn 1. She _has_ to hold on. If she can wait just a few more laps she can make it a one-stop race. But Ben’s opportunistic pit gives her pause… maybe they should be reacting rather than sticking to their strategy. It’s a dangerous thought.

 

She breathes out her misgivings, there’s nothing to do but keep going.

 

She’s in P1.

 

Now she just needs to hold it.

 

* * *

 

Lap 44 of 52

 

Kylo waits impatiently as the Safety Car winds its way through the circuit, Rey’s orange X-Wing just ahead. Her white-striped Mediums she pitted onto in Lap 25 flashing occasionally in the sun.

 

Resistance’s strategy hadn’t been difficult to deduce. Splitting their strategy and putting Rey on the losing option, with a one-stop race. The heat on the track was climbing, hammering even the stronger compound tyres down to nothing and prompting most of the front-runners to pit twice.

 

There’s a blister on her right rear, and he knows with a smugness that she won’t have time to pit again without admitting strategic defeat.

 

Another X-Wing closely shadows him, with Phasma just behind Dameron. Andor was out, spinning off the track two laps ago and causing the current delay behind the silver Safety Car. He took a savage delight in Andor’s misfortune, still bitter about the earlier contact and gruelling fight back the Rogue driver caused him.

 

His comm link hisses as Hux’s voice appears.

 

“Get ready, Ren, the track’s nearly clear,” he pauses for effect, “make it quicker than last time.”

 

Kylo doesn’t take the bait, fixing on Rey’s car ahead; if it’s anything like their last battle then he’ll need all his concentration.

 

The green light appears, the safety car pulling away and Kylo slams his foot down along with the rest of the pack, the group speeding forward in formation behind Rey, all biting at each other’s wheels. She reacts quickly, Kylo unable to get the jump on her but he holds close as they head through the curves of 3, 4, 5 and onto the straight; one of the best places to overtake.

 

And try he does.

 

He creeps closer, holding until the last moment before the apex pulling left to claim the inside lane but Rey blocks him, maintaining her lead for the subsequent turns as their tyres warm up.

 

Her back tyres slip slightly exiting Turn 7. He intensifies his efforts.

 

He keeps close as they approach the rapid corners of 10, flowing right, then left, right, left, right, hounding her out of 14 and down the short straight towards 15.

 

He holds.

 

And holds.

 

And slides right _just_ before she applies her brakes, snatching the inside and pushing ahead before she can cover it off, slipping ahead out of 15 and pushing forward, striving for breathing space.

 

Realistically, he knows she can’t overtake him again on her slower, scruffier tyres… but if he’s learned anything this year; it’s to not underestimate her.

 

* * *

 

Dammit!

 

Rey watches as Ben passes her. With five laps to go, his fresher Soft tyres were showing their worth and distinctly reminding her of _last_ weekend. She grits her teeth, pursuing him; the mental image of his smug face fuelling her while she tries to banish the fond sentiment attached to it.

 

_Focus, Rey._

 

She holds as close as she can over the next three laps, but her tyre degradation is apparent, her Mediums slipping more often as she tackles the corners, allowing him to create a buffer between them.  

 

Her comm crackles.

 

“Rey, I’m sorry,” Finn’s voice speaks through it, “but you’ve gotta let Poe pass. He’s got better pace on his tyres and we need him with the higher points for the Championship.”

 

Finn’s words feel like a punch to the gut.

 

But they’d discussed this. She’d agreed. It made sense at the time.

 

But now… every molecule in her body is screaming at her to race, to hunt, to win. It went against the very essence of whatever force compelled her to drive.

 

The thick blister on her back right mocks her in her mirror. She knows she can’t quite compete with Ben with her tyres in this state. And she needs to do what’s best for her team… it just doesn’t make it any easier.

 

She moves to the side and Poe powers past, hunting down Ben’s Silencer, advancing quicker than Rey can.

  
It’s still the same points for Resistance, she reasons hollowly, I had the chance to catch Ben, now Poe needs that chance too.

 

She refocuses back to herself as Phasma moves up to try and take third, the other Brit clearly churning for a podium finish in front of her home crowd too, but she manages to keep her at bay.

 

Poe has as much luck as Phasma, pulling left and right, trying desperately to overtake within the last two laps but just not quite able to pass Ben and, with their positions held, they roar beneath the gantry to the thrilled screams of the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Kylo isn’t surprised when Dameron slows to a halt at the second-place marker in park fermé, just indignant. Did Rey need a clearer sign that Resistance would always favour Dameron?

 

Yet, if she feels any lingering anger, she doesn’t show it, rolling into third place and emerging from her orange miscreation with a bright smile he can’t help returning. She charges towards the barriers where her team are clamouring but his neck prickles, as though he’s being watched. Ren glances left, meeting Dameron’s gaze for an instant before the Resistance driver strides off to join Rey.

 

Any type of lightness quickly tumbles away, further darkening at the sight of Andor approaching him, a bashful expression on display.

 

“Look,” he begins smoothly once he reaches Ren, “I’m sorry about the contact, my tyres locked up on the corner, I truly did not mean to damage your race.”

 

Andor extends his hand.

 

Ben’s torn between a sharp rebuke about controlling his car better or a boast regarding his own capabilities, but while he wavers Andor’s eyes flick casually to the side, Ben’s own following his gaze involuntarily. In time to see Rey’s attention wrench back to Dameron.

 

Ben looks suspiciously back at Andor, who wears an indiscernible look; enough for him to question if the smaller man was apologising due to his respect for Rey and what he witnessed last weekend or if he was genuinely sorry and simply cunning enough to do so in front of her to prevent a show down.

 

Either way, Ben swallows down on any harsh words, reaching forward grudgingly to shake his competitors hand.

 

“’S’all right,” he mumbles, cursing Andor’s ease compared to his own. “I got back in the end.”

 

The Mexican driver nods approvingly, “Yes, and moreover I don’t think _anyone_ could help being impressed by that performance.”

 

His words aren’t overtly pointed but Ben feels the tips of his ears burn regardless as Andor gives him a vague smile that’s not _completely_ without warmth, just enough to keep him uncertain, and walks away.

 

Kylo needs to get out of here, it’s far too open and revealing.

 

He nods to his team, the crew did a good job today, marching towards the green room to wait for the award ceremony. Deja vu hits him as he enters the empty room at the top of the stairs and it’s not long before he hears the doors push open.

 

He looks hopefully to the doors. Trying and failing not to appear over-eager.

 

Dameron saunters in - dousing his hopes - a guarded expression moulded to his face.

 

Discomfort settles over Kylo.

 

He’s perfectly content to wait in silence until Rey and officials arrive to get the ceremony underway.

 

Unfortunately, Dameron has other ideas.

 

“Congratulations,” he says stiffly, not sounding at all pleased.

 

Kylo examines him coldly.

 

“I’d say the same, if you’d earned it.”

 

His jaw clenches and Kylo feels a stab of satisfaction.

 

“I don’t trust you,” Dameron states just as coldly, Kylo’s about to retort a similar rejoinder but the Resistance driver barrels on. “I don’t know what’s going on or even if anything is going on, but I’ll warn you now: if you do anything to hurt Rey, then I’ll make sure you get what’s coming.”

 

That wasn’t quite what he expected. But jokes on you, Dameron:

 

“There isn’t anything going on,” he counters acidly, hoping the bitterness doesn’t creep into his voice.

 

He doesn’t have time to reflect on it, the doors bursting open again; Rey bounding in with Lando and other officials. She shoots him a beaming smile but Kylo flicks his eyes towards Dameron, sure enough he’s still watching. Lando quickly pulls their attention in the flurry of activity, the three of them pushed onto the podiums in front of the deafening crowd. Kylo hangs back, while the British audience celebrates, it’s Rey and Resistance they’re happy to see, despite the American anthem playing, he doesn’t need to pretend otherwise.

 

They’re ushered off the stage eventually, Kylo whisked down the stairs by a First Order representative, his last moments of relative quiet before hours of interviews.

 

It’s only chance he looks back, up the stairs to the landing he just descended from, but Rey is there, stopping him in his tracks.

 

Her eyes glow with excitement, a wicked smile playing at her lips for a moment before she tilts her head. Towards a door, stepping purposely through it.

 

He looks back at the rep, who continues on oblivious, wordless for a moment until his mind clicks, clearing his throat.

 

“I just, uh, forgot… something,” he lies awkwardly. “I’ll meet you in the paddock in a minute.”

 

It’s unconvincing but, miraculously, she nods, muttering a short ‘of course’ and he almost can’t believe it when she walks away, leaving him free to charge the stairs two at a time and slip surreptitiously into the room Rey disappeared into moments ago.

 

He lets out a low breath he didn’t even realise he was holding when he sees her, shutting the door quietly, her smile as bright as her jumpsuit. He feels his doubts and disappointments slip away for a moment, grinning back at her.

 

Part of his mind vaguely registers he’s doing exactly what Dameron told him _not_ to do less than 10 minutes ago.

 

 _Yeah, fuck you, Dameron,_ his mind happily supplies.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Congratulations,” she says, inadvertently echoing her team mate and bringing him back to reality… the one where he isn’t worthy of her affection.

 

“You too,” he replies politely, because it’s the least he can be right now.

 

She looks down at her hands, twisting them together as she worries a lip between her teeth.

 

 _She’s ashamed. She can’t even look at you, Ren._ A voice whispers viciously. He can’t help but believe it, she looks as though she’s warring with herself. This must be where she tries to let him down gently.

 

He swallows, preparing himself for her to tell him to back off, that she doesn’t want him to touch her again, that she doesn’t feel what he clearly does.

 

She takes a breath, opens her mouth before closing it. Finally, her face sets and she looks up, her hazel eyes filled with newfound determination.

 

“Do you have a free day tomorrow?”

 

What?

 

Ben’s taken back to say the least.

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

It’s not _quite_ true. There is a debrief and schedule planning set for tomorrow, but he rarely has input so surely his absence wouldn’t make Snoke angry… that’s the bigger lie.

 

“Would yo- do you want to maybe, erm, spend the day with me tomorrow?” She manages, suddenly unwilling to meet his gaze again as he watches her fidget.

 

He can feel himself becoming physically lighter, a small, confused smile spreading slowly over his face without permission.

 

“But… you didn’t call, I thought you didn’t want thi- I thought-”

 

She cocks her head slightly, eyes narrowing.

 

“Er, you never called either,” she challenges.

 

He can only hope his flush isn’t as apparent as it is hot.

 

“I wasn’t sure what to say,” he replies, feeling guilty and praying for some mercy. “When you didn’t say anything… I thought I misread things.”

 

Her eyes glint impishly.

 

“You thought you misread me snogging you?” She teases.

 

He rolls his eyes.

 

“When you put it that way…” he mumbles indignantly.

 

She can barely contain her mirth, but her eyes hold his gaze as if in a challenge.

 

Ben suddenly realises he hasn’t answered her proposition; perhaps it wasn’t _her_ leaving _him_ hanging this last week, he thinks guiltily.

 

He takes a steadying breath, stepping forward and trailing a hand down her cheek bone and along her jaw, sparks of electricity igniting down his fingers and through his arm.

 

“Tomorrow then.”

 

He wants to meet her lips with his own… unfortunately the memory of last weekend lingers.

 

He meets her eyes cautiously finding humour there.

 

“Yeah, I don’t particularly want to scandalise Cassian again either,” she replies playfully before he can say anything.

 

“I’ll pick you up,” he says.

 

“Alright,” she says holding his gaze a moment longer, eyes darker than he’d seen them, before walking to the door. “Tomorrow,” she promises, stepping from the room.

 

He clenches his hand and stretches it out, feeling tendrils of energy remaining.

 

Monday suddenly looked much more appealing.

 

-

 

CHAMPIONSHIP LEADERBOARD

Kylo Ren – First Order Racers:            183

Cassian Andor – Rogue Auto:             139

Poe Dameron - Resistance Racing:     134

Rey Smith - Resistance Racing:          105

Gwen Phasma - First Order Racers:    104

Boba Fett – Fett Racers:                        95

Ezra Bridger – Rebellion Motors:           57

Ahsoka Tano - Jedi:                              50

Bodhi Rook - Rogue Auto:                    49

Chirrut Imwe – Force One:                    42

Garth Maul - Sith:                                20

Aurra Sing – Fett Racers:                       12

Baze Malbus - Force One:                       9

Sideon Ithano – Kanata Motors:               8

Dravitz Draven – Rebellion Motors:         4

Mace Windu - Jedi:                                 4

Scott Quiggold – Kanata Motors:            2

Tyranus Dooku – Sith:                            1

Rotta Hutt – Auto Hutt:                           1

Bib Fortuna – Auto Hutt:                         1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's why Han's hair is so big, it's full of secrets. Also let's all forgive Poe together, poor boy loves Rey and hated seeing Plutt being a jerk to her, it had to happen!
> 
>  
> 
> I based a lot of the race action on the actual race so pop over to youtube and watch the highlights if you would like the visuals!
> 
> Also this is not news but I literally don't know how to write short chapters. My b, it's a real problem.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and are KEEEEN for the next chapter!! <3
> 
> XX


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